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Digby Ravelyn 

A NOVEL 


/ 

HEBER K. DANIELS 


r 


AUTHOR OF 


My Lady’s Banner,” “Tales of a Terrace,” etc., etc. 


NEW YORK 

THE HOME PUBLISHING COMPANY 

6 


41784 

Copyright 1899 
By A. C. GUNTER 
A»I rights reserved 


TWO COPIES received. 



SFCOND oopy, 

So '5' - 


TO MARY, MY WIFE, 
IN ALL AFFECTION. 


>•« 




Digby Ravelyn 


CONTENTS 

chapter - PAGE 

I. ‘‘ Live, man, live! » . . . 5 

II. Chamfer’s Prodigal 21 

III. Miss Chamfer wishes she were a pawn- ! 

broker . . , . * . *32 

IV. Colonel Ravelyn, of the Warriors’ Club . 41 

V. The Colonel’s confession , , .48 

VI. ^^Dear, dear, mother!” . , . .58 

VII. Mary Downs 64 

VIII. Mr. Alfred Chamfer makes violent love 
on the sidewalk . . . . » 

IX. Jealous of his new love, tempted by the 

old . . . . . . .90 

X. Mr. Frederick Holder makes himself a 

loan office ...... 103 

XI. “The new life, father, the new life !” . no 

XII. The happy family . 


. 124 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

XIII. Mr. Alfred Chamfer is pulled through the 

secret door 

XIV. Violet Troope wishes she were Queen 

Elizabeth ...... 

XV. Mr. Chamfer becomes a promoter . 

XVI. Mr. Barbelow on collaboration 

XVII. An old man fights love’s battle 

XVIII. Mr. Alfred Chamfer leaves for America 
entour ....... 

XIX. ‘‘ She has forgiven you ” . 

XX. Mr. Blagworth proves he is a man of 
honor ....... 

XXI. The new world ..... 

XXII. ‘‘’Aughty Flbrinda” . . . . 


PAGE 

134 

149 

163 

I7I 

180 

I9I 

200 

212 

222 

237 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


CHAPTER I. 

LIVE, MAN, live! ’’ 

London, in the Jubilee year of Her Majesty the 
Queen (God bless her!), one thousand eight hundred 
and eighty-seven. 

London, one particularly bleak morning in the early 
spring of that festive year, with a distorted sun loom- 
ing phenomenally near and red through the ascend- 
ing mists from riverside and common, and touching up 
with its feeble glow the motley gathering of steeples, 
cupolas, chimney-pots, and towers that stood out above 
a level sea of fog, like the relics of a submerged com- 
munity. 

London asleep : London awake : London comatose — 
betwixt day and dreaming. London up all night, in 
tears, in laughter, in joy, and in sorrow: feasting, pray- 
ing, scheming, and — dying. And yet, in the main, 
London remarkably self-conscious, and, for the hour, 
briskly stirring. 

Although the business day is comparatively young 
(a babel of clocks is hammering out the hour of nine), 
the suburban trains have already deposited their quota 
of toiling humanity at the various termini, and, with 
empty vehicles, are scurrying rapidly outward for the 
remaining and leisurely few. In the streets men and 
women hustle one another fiercely for place in the 
overcrowded cars, as load after load of eager wage- 


6 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


earners are gathered up like so much merchandise, to 
be dropped with equal lack of ceremony among the 
business centers of the great metropolis. 

In the houses night-lights go out, and window 
blinds by the thousand wind spasmodically upward, to 
reveal the pallid, yawning faces and unkempt heads 
of the independent minority, who have retired shaken 
but permanently victorious from the great struggle 
for bread that is causing the flagstones beneath them 
to ring incessantly with the hurrying tread of their less 
fortunate brethren. Of a verity, a grimly humorous 
taskmaster, this universal law of self-preservation! 
Setting by the ears this busy swarm of hungry units, 
in their frantic efforts to snatch a living out of each 
other's mistakes, and thrusting aside as unfit poor 
weakly merit, in order that the fitter rogue niay of his 
very audacity survive. 

Upon one of these hungry units, who is destined, 
perchance, to grow more hungry this joyous London 
day, the rising Jubilee sun is shining as cheerily as it 
does upon the concourse of happier humanity drawn 
together from the four quarters of the world to con- 
gratulate England and her British Queen. 

This unit of struggling London life is housed under 
the modest roof that covers the newspaper shop and 
lodging-house of Mrs. Busby, Dedborough street, Pim- 
lico, and is not the most luxurious abiding place for the 
scion of an ancient and most honorable county family. 
Not that it might not have been a good deal further 
removed, and infinitely less reputable, when the fact 
of Digby Ravelyn’s six months' residence in London 
without means or friends is taken seriously into ac- 
count. 

For there are degrees, even in lodging-houses; and 
the first floor anteroom of No. 13 Dedborough 
street, though limited in size, and permanently redo- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


7 


lent of burning soot, was, socially speaking, as dis- 
tantly removed from the fourpenny dossing-houses of 
Westminster as the latter were from the railway arches 
and Tom Tiddler's grounds of Lower Lambeth. This, 
at any rate, was the opinion formed of it by its present 
occupant (Colonel Ravelyn’s youngest son) during a 
month's sojourn within its walls, as it may also be 
taken as the collective sense of his fellow-lodgers in re- 
spect of their rooms in general, and No. 13 in particular 
— Mrs. Busby concurring. 

Colonel Ravelyn's son by his second wife was 
simply Colonel Ravelyn himself at the age of twenty- 
five, with perhaps a larger experience of the grosser 
side of life than that retired officer and stern disciplin- 
arian, his father, ever possessed or was likely to ac- 
quire during the remainder of his existence. He was 
slightly over six feet in height, square-shouldered, and 
proportionately developed to meet the requirements of 
that risky limit without the least appearance of un- 
gainliness in his movements. 

His was, moreover, a shapely head, with its closely 
cropped black hair, already a little flecked about the 
ears with gray, and carried with the same set atti- 
tude of dogged determination that characterized his 
father's at any period of his life. His thickly 
fringed eyes were of the darkest shade of blue, 
and of that shape which is so poetically compared 
to that of the almond, the whole being set off by a 
pair of well-defined eyebrows, the almost boyish ruddi- 
ness of his clean-shaven cheeks, and a heavy, drooping 
mustache of so raven a hue and graceful a sweep that 
many a young cavalry officer would have given his fav- 
orite charger to have been possessed of it. 

It was the head of a so-called hero. A head that 
was eminently qualified to carry its possessor tri- 
umphantly through the acbieyements of a complete 


8 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


library of The Young Lady's Family Mercury." But, 
for ourselves, who have never, from our earliest child- 
hood, had anything in common with romance in any 
shape or form, it was simply the head of an adult of 
one of our best English families, whose one cranial 
deficiency had led him to violate the laws of his class, 
and love with a virtuous love a woman of less de- 
gree. 

Into this love business Digby St. John Hereward 
Ravelyn had entered with as callous a display of in- 
difference as though he was born of the lowliest churl 
on his father's domain — even to the proposition of mar- 
riage to the maiden of his choice. Therefore he had 
been expelled by his martinet father from the home of 
his ancestors as unworthy of his gentle descent. Have 
at thee, therefore, renegade and apostate; for thou art 
alone and penniless in the land! 

Alone, did we say? Well, probably not so, to his 
way of thinking, and to judge by the cabinet-size like- 
ness of a young girl who, with large, smiling eyes, and 
a wealth of clustering curls, gazes up at him with an ex- 
pression brimful of animal health and immoderate hap- 
piness — and gazing, tocT, as if in mute gratefulness to 
him for the foolishly tender concern that gave her the 
place of honor on the table under his very nose. 

Penniless? Of a surety. For have we not the evi- 
dence of Mrs. Busby's weekly rent-book lying open 
upon the table before him, with a marginal note in that 
good lady's best handwriting to the effect that an im- 
mediate settlement of the three weeks' rent in arrears 
was an object very much to be desired. 

The apartment itself was of that species erroneously 
described by Mrs. Busby and her class as a bed-sit- 
ting-room. For the former was too short for its pres- 
ent occupant by at least a foot, and the lounging facili- 
ties of the anteroom were as impracticable for sus^ 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


9 


tained ease as the wardrobe-like pianoforte (doing duty 
as a sideboard) was impossible of intelligible manipu- 
lation. 

Not, we are bound to admit, that these shortcom- 
ings appeared to weigh in the least on the mind of the 
lodger. His was apparently a disposition either too 
supremely disdainful or too stolidly fatuous to pay 
much heed to a condition of things that was very little 
removed in degree from the plank bed accommodation 
of a modern police cell. 

Mark him, as he bends with knitted brow over a 
pile of bescribbled foolscap. Now coming to a full 
stop in the uncertain travel of his pen, and appealing, 
apparently for inspiration, to the portrait in oils of the 
late Mr. Busby on the wall, the petrified roach in its 
glass case on the mantelpiece, or through the window 
to the forest of smoking chimney-pots beneath him. 
Looking at him one would wager that this misguided 
young man is writing a novel. Stay; what have we 
here? 

An open letter bearing yesterday’s date under an 
immense quantity of stereotyped heading, and: 

“ Dear Sir : 

Re ‘ Myrtle Towers ’ {returned'). 

We have given the above MS. our very careful considera- 
tion, and regret 

H’m — ha! Well, well! We have most of us been 
there in our time. Let it pass. 

From the open window, with its half-a-dozen potted 
geraniums, held in place on the sill by a miniature 
brick wall with practicable gates, the young man’s 
gaze wanders off by turns to the bedstead, with its 
battered and jingling brassware; the daguerrotype 
portrait above it of the late Mr. Busby’s father, in curls, 


lO 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


and an absurdly large hat; the ditto, ditto, of that gen- 
tleman’s good lady as Mother Hubbard in black,” 
over the firepiace; the cuckoo clock on the sideboard, 
with the hour-hand and the cuckoo both missing; to the 
allegory of the '' broad and the narrow path ” over the 
doorway, with the usual preponderance of well-dressed 
people ignoring the approach to Kew-garden-like 
prospects of future bliss, in favor of the roomier en- 
trance leading to precipices and perdition; and finally 
by easy stages back to the replica of the young girl 
before him. And then the pen is laid aside for the 
nonce to admit of an interval of what has every appear- 
ance of being a very pleasurable reverie. 

From this enviable condition of mind he is speedily 
aroused by a heavy and prolonged pounding upon the 
floor overhead; and as the noise continues to increase 
in volume as the blows become faster and more furious, 
he rises with a sigh from his seat at the table, and 
with a walking stick, administers a series of responsive 
raps on the ceiling, with the result that the sounds im- 
mediately cease, and heavy steps are heard descending 
the stairs. 

'' I thought you were dead,” remarked a man, sen- 
tentiously, and in a particularly harsh and generally 
unpleasant tone of voice, as he walked unceremoni- 
ously in and seated himself at the fireplace with his 
back to young Ravelyn. There we have one of the 
drawbacks of living by oneself. Nobody ever knows 
for certain whether you’re in or out, sick or well, liv- 
ing or dead, until summoned as a witness to testify 
to your condition of mind when last seen alive.” 

It was an ill-conditioned person who spoke, and an 
ill-favored one, too, in all conscience. A big-headed 
man in a shabby dog’s-eared suit of pepper-and-salt, 
garnished at the neck and wrists with an obtrusive dis- 
play of soiled and buttonless underwear. Stunted of 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


II 


growth, heavy and blowsy of feature, and shaggy and 
unkempt of hair and beard, he was the living personi- 
fication of what a nineteenth century satyr (minus 
hoof, tail, and oaten pipe) might have looked like, had 
it so pleased Providence to institute a mythological 
revival. 

The young man appeared to be too well accus- 
tomed to these incursions on his domestic privacy to 
pay much heed to the foregoing disquisition, for with 
a cheery ‘‘Good morning, Barbelow: make yourself 
comfortable like a good fellow, I am in the middle of 
it,” he resumed his seat and his weary task over the 
manuscript, as the other, with an audible sniff of con- 
tempt at the literary ware, proceeded to fill up an 
enormous black clay with a dank compound of the 
coarsest black tobacco that ever tickled the palate of 
an Irish platelayer. 

“ I heard a double rat-tat at the front door this 
morning,” remarked Mr. Barbelow, pulling a news- 
paper out of his pocket and folding up a third of it as a 
pipe-lighter, “ and it struck me at the time that your 
‘ Myrtle Towers ’ had come back to you again.” 

“ I am sorry to say it has,” replied the other, de- 
jectedly; “and there’s the letter accompanying it — if 
it’s any pleasure to you to read it.” 

“ I thought so! ” remarked the satyr, almost exult- 
ingly, when he had glanced over the refusal, and tossed 
it back upon the table. “ If you had christened it ‘ The 
Devil’s House,’ as I wanted you to, they would have 
accepted it. The title is the thing nowadays, my boy! 
The public would have bought the book if it was only 
for the cover,” and, with his improvised torch, he pro- 
ceeded to light up his pipe exhaustively. 

“ Perhaps you are right,” retorted young Ravelyn, a 
little nettled, and anticipating Mr. Barbelow’s require- 
ments by a forward movement of the spittoon. “ But 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


then, you see, I am appealing to the more intelligent, 
and, I might add, refined section of the novel-reading 
public. But in view of this continued run of ill-luck, I 
don’t mind telling you that if I don’t succeed in gain- 
ing their attention in this last venture of mine, 
‘ Editha’s Legacy,’ I shall cease writing altogether — 
I mean it, I can assure you! ” 

Have you breakfasted yet?” inquired Mr. Barbe- 
low, evasively, but with a deep subtlety of induction 
that was not wholly lost on his companion, for he col- 
ored to the very eyes. 

“ I was about to do so,” said he, but the double 
postage on the MS. — I never dreamed it would come 
back again — cleaned me out completely, and necessi- 
tated the postponement of that very necessary meal 
until to-morrow morning. I will tell you what it is, 
though, Barbelow — and I don’t mind confiding it to 
you, seeing that you take so great an interest in my 
misfortunes — the fact is just this. I am in a regular 
downright, out-and-out fix. You know, I started 
some six months ago to fight the world, alone, un- 
aided, with a light heart, and with a purse pretty much 
of a weight, and — well, here is the result ” (passing the 
rent-book over to Mr. Barbelow, and slapping a num- 
ber of unresponsive pockets). '' I had staked every- 
thing on the success of the ‘ Towers ’ with the ‘ Leg- 
acy ’ held in reserve to follow up the success ; but now, 
with the return of the MS. from every publisher in the 
directory, I am beginning to think that the game is up 
at last, and that the world scores.” 

He got up from his seat and began to pace the room 
with the first approach to despondency gathering about 
his brow, Mr. Barbelow eyeing him the while from his 
coign of vantage — a cloud of the rankest smoke con- 
ceivable — and chuckling. Yes, chuckling at this very 
pitiable result of neglected opportunity. 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


13 


‘‘I suppose there is nothing left to me now but to 
enlist,'' said the young man, opening the window and 
leaning out. 

You are too old — in appearance, at least," said 
Mr. Barbelow, quietly, while his sunken eyes fairly 
twinkled again under the great heavy brows. 

‘‘ Or to clerk it in the city." 

They wouldn't have you as a gift," returned the 
satyr, cheerfully. They're full up." 

‘'Not a secretaryship even?" 

“ You would have to buy that." 

“Good Heavens! Why, then, there's nothing else 
before me but the — the " 

“ Workhouse," suggested Mr. Barbelow, pleasantly, 
“ or emigration ; possibly to find yourself in a country 
without the option of a workhouse." 

“ Barbelow," said the young man, stepping up to 
the pessimist, and regarding him with a stern fixity of 
gaze that commanded even that person's respect, 
“ sooner than that, do you know I'd cheerfully seek 
death itself. You don't believe me! I tell you I was 

never more in earnest in my Stop! Don't move an 

inch for the life of you — there's a butterfly on the ger- 
aniums! " 

“Where?" cried Barbelow, rising excitedly, and 
moving toward the window. “ Why, so there is! How 
beautiful! Don't kill it, for God's sake!" 

Turning around in some surprise at the unwonted 
softness in his friend's voice, Digby Ravelyn was fur- 
ther moved to wonder at a corresponding kindliness of 
expression that had crept into his rugged features, 
and in one brief second had completely metamorphosed 
his whole countenance. 

“Why, Barbelow! I always though there was 
nothing in existence capable of exciting your sym- 
pathies." 


14 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


‘‘ Nor more there was — or is/' growled the other, 
somewhat disconcerted, but then, these things live. 
There's the difference — bless every spot on their 
chalky little wings! It is zve who exist. Look at it 
— mark it well! A butterfly — an insect. Now look 
upon yourself — at me, for instance. And what do 
we see? H'm, better, perhaps, contemplate the in- 
sect." 

And so they continued for a brief interval to gaze — 
perchance to dream, until the butterfly having moved 
within the influence of Mr. Barbelow's “ Irish blend," 
immediately abandoned its quest and flew away. 

It was almost as good as a day in the country," 
sighed the younger man, closing the window, and 
turning to his companion. I was a boy again, Bar- 
below — a boy for a few sweet seconds, cowering down 
on Dumbton lawn amidst the cukoo-spit and grass- 
hoppers, and breathing in a perfect heaven of honey- 
suckle and cowslip. A boy once more, and by virtue 
of that most lasting of all our memories, the memory 
of smell — I wish you would put that pipe out." 

Mr. Barbelow knocked the ashes out of the clay, 
pocketed it, and softly whistled the first six bars of 
the Dead March in Saul." 

'' What were we talking about? " asked the young 
man, abstractedly. 

Death! " replied Mr. Barbelow, in sepulchral tones, 
and emulating a muffled drum on the table with his 
stubby fingers. You were contemplating suicide as 
a means of cheating the workhouse of its due." 

Death, or an appeal to the Governor for funds," 
murmured the young man, more to himself than to his 
pessimistic companion. Life with money and a liv- 
ing death without her; or death pure and simple, with 
its life of misery to her without me. Upon my word, 
Barbelow, I believe I am going to break down, old 


DIGBV RAVELYN. 


15 


fellow. You know all about my little affair, from be- 
ginning to end. Now, candidly, what would you ad- 
vise me to do, supposing yourself to be in my place, 
for instance? ” 

I never give advice,'' replied Mr. Barbelow, sul- 
lenly, “ and for two very good reasons. If you were 
to take it I should probably think the less of you for 
doing so " 

And if I refused it?" 

I should hate you for your want of confidence 
in me." 

But where are the odds, supposing you did either? " 
cried the young man, impetuously. ‘‘ I couldn't pos- 
sibly sink to any lower degree in your estimation than 
that which I hold at the present moment." 

‘‘ That’s fishing, young man," returned Mr. Barbe- 
low, abruptly, though in somewhat kindlier tones, and 
compliments and advice, as you ought to know by this 
time, were born twins. What has she got to say about 
it?" 

He had taken the photograph into his hands, and 
was closely scrutinizing the young girl's features. 
Strange to tell, this was not an uncommon thing for 
Mr. Barbelow to do. Many a time and oft had the si- 
lent contemplation of those dimpled cheeks and 
laughing eyes afforded the younger man a peaceful in- 
terval for the uninterrupted flow of composition. 

I have told her nothing," replied Digby Ravelyn; 
the poor girl has more troubles of her own on her 
mind than she can afford to bear, without the addi- 
tional burden of mine. I have told her nothing." 

‘‘ I need hardly ask you if this likeness does full jus- 
tice to the living original," said Mr. Barbelow, turning 
the conversation. If her eyes are naturally bright 
and — soulful, for instance, and " 

Oh, Barbelow, bright and soulful are far too in- 


DIGBV IlAVELYN. 


i6 

adequate terms to describe their wonderful charm of 
glance! 

Or whether her hair is soft and rippling, and 
crowns her head like a glittering, er ’’ 

“Halo!’' suggested the young man, breathlessly. 
“ A glittering halo, Barbelow.” 

“ Halo it is,” assented the satyr, goodhumoredly. 
“ Or if her heart is good ” 

“ Good as gold, old fellow! ” 

“ No doubt, no doubt, with a soul in keeping, and 
in fact, all the concentrated charms and virtues of the 
first woman in Christendom, let the next come from 
whence she may?” 

“ Why, Barbelow, you must have seen and known 
her, from the wonderful accuracy of your description! 
But why do you ask? ” 

For no particular reason that I know of, except, 
perhaps, that I knew and — loved (ha! ha! ha!) just such 
another at your age. And — well, she hated me worse 
than a mad dog.” 

“ And small blame to her for it,” thought the 
young man to himself, with a furtive glance at the 
uncouth old fellow, with his exaggerated features and 
foreshortened body. But he did not venture to say 
so, though his eyes might possibly have betrayed the 
thought. 

“ Which showed her excellent taste, says you? ” ob- 
served the satyr, with a suspicious look at his young 
friend, and replacing the photograph, with something 
like a sigh, upon the table. “Well, well! It is an 
old story now, though it may bear repeating some 
day when we come to compare notes on the subject. 
You have asked me just now for my advice, and I 
haven't chosen to offer it to you for certain excellent 
reasons given. Now, look here, my young friend, I will 
tell you, instead, what I propose and am willing to do/* 


DIGBY RAVELYN. If 

Mr. Barbelow laid his right hand upon Digby Rave- 
lyn’s shoulder, and, with the forefinger of the left, 
truculently upheld, proceeded to emphasize his re- 
marks after a manner peculiar to him when dealing 
with disputant cabmen and runaway knocks. 

‘‘ I will ask you, in the first place, to take me into 
partnership with you in this literary business of yours. 
You to find the ideas — the brains — the whatever you 
like to call it, necessary to cover the requisite amount 
of paper; myself to furnish the capital to keep the 
thing going, and to undertake the sole responsibility 
of placing our joint property on the market. Yo7i 
will be the sleeping partner, as it were, with nothing 
on earth to do but to think and write, and I shall be 
your financial agent, with full power of attorney to act 
according to my own judgment in the matter. What 
do you say? 

‘‘But the money? gasped the young man, in a 
whirl of amazement, as the other let go his hold on 
his shoulder and sank back with an intimidating scowl 
into his chair. 

“ The money, so far as the working capital is con- 
cerned, is my business,’’ replied Mr. Barbelow, shortly. 
“ As regards the profits, you can’t expect me to do all 
this for nothing — sure-ly? Well, it may seem hard 
to you at first sight, perhaps, but I shall certainly re- 
quire for my share in the business at the very least 
one-third of the profits.” 

“ But if you — if we — should fail in our endeavors to 
place these books on the market? ” 

“ Why, then we’ve only got to change the titles, and 
shuffle some of the chapters, and begin all over again. 
All great literary men got on in that way. They 
simply bored and bullyragged the publishers into ad- 
mitting them. Only some of ’em, of course, hadn’t 
sufficient staying power to hold on, and they starved 


x8 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


on the road, just as you were about to do. There's no 
merit whatever in the matter, believe me. It's simply 
a question of perseverance and wind." 

'' My dear old friend! " cried the young author, in an 
ecstasy of surprised delight, as he grasped his com- 
panion by both his hands and shook them exhaustively. 
“ But how am I to thank you sufficiently for this un- 
heard-of piece of disinterested kindness?" 

Disinterested is just the word for it, young man," 
growled the old curmudgeon, withdrawing his hands, 
and diving them into his trousers pockets. Don't 
you imagine for one moment that I am proposing any 
such scheme for your special behoof. Oh dear, no! It 
is merely a little hobby of mine, that's all. A natural, 
if perhaps morbid desire to assist anybody and any- 
thing in its struggle against that social condition of 
affairs described by yourself a while ago, collectively, 
as the world. 

The world and Barbelow went at each other hammer 
and tongs at an age when the latter knew com- 
paratively nothing, and when the former ought to 
have known a great deal better. The world 
thought, in its almighty exclusiveness, that Barbe- 
low was a fit subject to be forthwith dropped into ob- 
livion, and with that object in view proceeded to pul- 
verize him out of all existence in the approved old 
Up-and-down fashion peculiar to it. 

But a resolute front under every conceivable condi- 
tion of hardship very soon convinced Barbelow that 
this world was one of the most abject and pusil- 
lanimous institutions under the sun. For when he 
came up smiling, as it were, at every round, and 
begged of it to come on again, it suddenly made 
a complete change of front, threw its arms 
about his neck, and, with a carney smile on its hypocrit- 
ical d d old countenance, told him that the whole 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


19 


thing was only meant out of a sheer spirit of fun, and 
that it had really acted throughout for his own very 
particular and special benefit. 

'' Well, it admitted me,’’ continued Mr. Barbelow, 
hooking his thumbs into the armholes of his waist- 
coat, and scowling at Digby like an angry gargoyle, 
it admitted me into its privileged circle, just as you 
shall see it admit you, when we re-commence opera- 
tions in downright, sober earnest. Only, mind you, 
no more of that ‘ seeking out death ’ sentiment within 
my hearing, if you value our partnership beyond a 
moment’s duration. Death! Bah! Such child’s bab- 
ble is just what the world is ever striving to wring 
from our craven hearts. Live, man, live! If it’s only 
to spite everybody else — as I’m doing — and to see what 
the morrow will bring forth! 

‘‘ Now, the world, in the shape of a certain — pardon 
me — pudding-headed old Colonel down Dumbton way 
says to yourself in effect: ' Young man, thou shalt not 
marry a certain young woman, with soulful eyes and 
a curly head of hair (but of no particular account or 
standing in my eyes) under pain of instant social 
death.’ And there you have your cue. again — 
' death.’ 

‘‘ ‘ Old man,’ says yourself, also in effect, though 
with every appearance of being terribly in earnest, 
' with the assistance of my very good friend Barbelow 
here, of whose exploits you should have heard some- 
thing by this time, I propose, with every outward show 
of respect to yourself, to take this identical young 
woman to my arms as my lawfully wedded wife, the 
world, as represented by yourself, notwithstanding. 
Under which circumstances, and apart from all con- 
sequences that may follow, you are at perfect liberty to 
do your very worst and be ’ ” 

‘‘ Exactly,” cried the young man, assenting to this 


20 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


wrong-headed proposition with a feverish show of 
alacrity that was truly deplorable. '' It never occurred 
to me to view the world in that light before.'’ 

Of course it didn't, although I am bound to admit 
that a certain amount of credit is due to you for the 
bullheaded way you went at it. 

And now," concluded Mr. Barbelow, rising, and 
shaking himself like the ill-conditioned old dog that 
he was, “ the chops will be cooked to a cinder and the 
potatoes done to a mush, if we don't go upstairs and 
dish them up at once. Stop a bit, though. Our friend 
the world still blocks the way. One anteroom, at three 
shillings and sixpence per week for three weeks, is ten 
and sixpence; and twenty milks, at a halfpenny a milk, 
is tenpence; and fifteen scuttles is seven and sixpence: 
total, eighteen and tenpence, out of a sovereign. 
There! we have caught up with the times again, and — 
excuse me, I can smell burning. Come on! " 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 




CHAPTER 11. 
chamfer's prodigal. 

About the same time this same morning, Mr. Henry 
Chamfer, undertaker and monumental mason, of Great 
Lyddell (or, as it was locally pronounced, Great 
Little ") street, in the parish of St. Bridget's, Batter- 
sea, had finished his breakfast. 

Mr. Chamfer was a self-made man; self-made in 
the sense of his having of his own unaided efforts lit- 
erally sprung from the soil ; or, more strictly speaking, 
from his native rock — which was Portland. The term 
was, therefore, as true in its application to Mr. Cham- 
fer, sitting in his little office, with his rough-hewn 
features and bunchy limbs, as it was to the crying 
cherubim in the process of development from a marble 
cube in the workshop adjoining. Had there been 
any doubt on the point w^e might, if desired, have 
named at least a dozen living artisans who could viv- 
idly bring to mind a certain dapper little mason in 
apron and bib, briskly answering to the call of Harry 
Chamier," as he came forward, all white and gritty, 
to receive his weekly wage at the hands of an un- 
sympathetic-looking timekeeper. 

Indeed, rumor, with its ready faculty for awkw^ard 
reminiscence, went even further, and asseverated, with 
its many tongued air of conviction, that not only had 
Mr. Chamfer first seen light in a quarryman’s hut in 
the wilds of Portland, but that in the pursuit of a trade 
in which his father had lived and died, he had himself 
wielded the saw and w^edge for a full quarter of a 
century before a steady course of thrift had enabled 


22 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


him one day to climb the quarry side for the last time, 
and seek in London a more remunerative field for his 
undoubted abilities. What truth there may have been 
in the report we can not of a certainty vouch, but if 
appearance went for anything, Mr. Chamfer most cer- 
tainly looked it, and appearance will stand for a very 
great deal nowadays. 

Personally speaking, his general build, and par- 
ticularly the shape of his head, would scarcely have 
impressed a phrenologist with the idea that benevo- 
lence and veneration — qualities so often allied with self- 
creativeness — were of the undertaker's most prominent 
virtues; that is, provided, of course, that those parts 
had been allotted their proper spheres on the top of the 
head, and not, as in Mr. Chamfer's case, under that 
portion of skull-space situated more or less behind the 
ears. 

Yet, thanks to a profession where everything de- 
pends so much on facial expression, Mr. Chamfer 
had, by dint of steady application to details, succeeded 
in permanently imparting to his somewhat mastiff- 
like features something of that necessary admixture of 
mournful suavity and gladsome sorrow which forms so 
important an item in the stock in trade of an under- 
taker's business; though, to a close observer, and one 
more especially who was not blinded by family be- 
reavement, there was always a slumbering something 
in the washed-out blue eyes and abnormal pallor of 
the squat-built undertaker that suggested to their 
mind's eye a man whose coarser passions were only 
held in leash by the most violent physical effort. 

Mr. Chamfer's private dwelling-rooms were situated 
directly above the shop in Great Lyddell street, and 
were occupied by his two sons (likewise in the busi- 
ness) and a daughter, who was also indirectly of the 
firm, for she kept house for her father and brothers. 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


23 


and, when occasion arose, could furnish an estimate or 
take an order as efficiently as the best of them; which 
was saying a great deal, for it was generally ac- 
knowledged throughout the trade that in point of busi- 
ness astuteness the Chamfers, phe et filsy were about 
as sharp as they make them — beyond which it would 
be difficult for laudatory comment to travel. 

On the morning when our tale opens the senior 
member of the firm of '' Henry Chamfer & Sons ’’ was 
sitting in his private office overlooking the workshop 
before referred to, and leisurely engaged in opening 
his letters and depositing their contents within a pair 
of baskets labeled respectively '' Dr.’' and Cr.”, for 
tradesmen (will it be believed!) in common with the 
outside public, are as liable to have a little bill sent in 
to them as a big check; but with this difference, that, 
inasmuch as the former are tied to one known place of 
residence, they are more conveniently accessible to the 
dun than is your irresponsible consumer. 

Everything about the little room, from its occupant 
in a suit of conventional black to the sample masonry 
on the table and the coffin-ends on the wall, appeals 
vividly to our sense of the things that are fleeting and 
moribund. In the workshop, which is overlooked 
through a pair of glass doors, some half-a-dozen 
Italian masons are busily engaged in “ shaping ” and 
‘‘ lettering,” and the ringing sound of their chiseling, 
together with the incessant hammering on the studded 
lid of a casket on trestles in the outer shop, go to 
make up a pandemonium that, however it may serve 
to solace the Chamfers, proves a source of irritation un- 
speakable to the nerves of their more sedentary neigh- 
bors. The wallspace of the outer and inner office, as 
well as that of the workshop, is hung with photographs 
and working drawings of every description of monu- 
ment, from a soldier’s iron cross (for transmission 


24 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


abroad) to the granite mausoleum of a city magnate; 
and the Chamfers themselves posture very frequently 
in a series of groups representing opening ceremonies 
in connection with some particular fountain, obelisk, 
or other public erection that has been turned out from 
the raw material by the eminent firm in Great Lyddell 
street* 

It was scarcely a suite of rooms wherein an optimist 
would have found much encouragement in the pur- 
suit of his favorite views; or above which a humorist 
who had his living to make would have lodged and 
maintained his native flow of spirits intact. But it 
suited the undertaker down to the very ground, as, 
indeed, did the locality itself, which v/as considerably 
overpopulated and low-lying. 

The last letter in the pile (as is very often the case) 
appeared, from the effect of its contents on the under-, 
taker, to be of more importance than all the others 
put together. He read it over several times, compared 
the coat of arms on the envelope with the address over 
the ‘‘ Dear Sir,’’ put the inclosure back into its cover, 
and finally consigned the whole to a place of honor 
within the breast pocket of his frock coat, whistling 
softly to himself the while, after the manner of one 
wdio is fashioning an intricate piece of work, or plot. 

Indeed, there must have been something almost talis- 
manic in the properties of that letter; because after re- 
producing it from its receptacle and re-perusing it with 
an air of great deliberation and self-importance, Mr. 
Chamfer unlocked a drawer in the writing table before 
him and took from it a massive gold w^atch and chain, 
which he substituted for the silver guard and time- 
piece in wear, and then unlocking another drawer in 
the same table drew forth from its layer of cotton wool 
a heavy gold ring set with a very Kohinoor of a di- 
amond. This he slipped, with a complacent smile. 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


25 


over the stubby third finger of his right hand, and then 
lolled back in his chair, thoughtfully sibilant as before. 
But a sudden cessation of the hammering in the ad- 
joining office having startled him from his reverie, he 
again drew up to the table, and in a very short space of 
time succeeded in arranging his papers in readiness for 
the day's business. 

'' I am afraid we are going to have some fine weath- 
er, Mr, Fewkes," he presently observed, with a shade 
of professional anxiety in his tones, as he arose and 
went into the outer offict' to reccnnoiter from the win- 
dow. 

I am afraid we are, sir," responded a thin oboe- 
like voice from an inclosed office to the right of the 
doorway. '' I was a-hopin' the fog was about to lay; 
but it's been a-liftin’ and a-liftin' gradual since break- 
fast, and looks now as if it was goin' off for the rest of 
the day." 

'' Oh, it ain't altogether the fog, Mr. Fewkes," re- 
marked the undertaker, as he nodded a somber recog- 
nition at his son, who had just driven up in a trap. 
'' Fogs and coal smoke are 'ealthy, if we are to believe 
what the doctors tell us. It was more the winds I had 
in my mind's eye when I spoke. They are getting 
too southerly to do ns much good, Mr. Fewkes; and 
the sun, too, I notice, is getting closer and warmer 
every day, as of course it should; although," added 
the undertaker, with something closely akin to a sigh, 

we never hear of sunstrokes nor heat apoplexies 
carrying folks off nowadays, like it used to do in our 
time. I heard a thrush singin' yesterday morning as I 
was coming along, Mr. Fewkes." 

‘‘No-o! You don't say so, sir!" The scratching 
sounds of a pen had suddenly ceased as the head of a 
very old man appeared at the door of the little office, 
with the faintest approach to astonishment depicted on 


26 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


its thin and parchment-like features. Where was 
that, sir? 

'' Outside a greengrocer's shop in the Borough," re- 
plied Mr. Chamfer, disinterestedly, though I’m 
bound to say I never heard anything half so natural 
since I was in the country last." 

'' H’m! " sniffed the old man, as the faint look of re- 
trospective longing died out of his sunken eyes, and 
he turned into his little den with a ghost of a sigh. 
‘‘ I thought perhaps you had been in the country. I 
dreamed about it myself last night — dreamed I saw ’em 
all over again — the pea-green leaves and thrushes and 
speckly trout, and — cowslips. Ah, dear! ’’ 

Southerly winds and warm suns and singing 
thrushes,’’ pursued Mr. Chamfer, heedless of his re- 
tainer’s unbusinesslike soliloquy, '' are all natural 
enough at this time of the year, I know, but then, if 
the weather took it upon itself to be always natural, 
and always in season, where would you and I be, Mr. 
Fewkes? — or the trade in general, for the matter of 
that?" 

To this somewhat alarming proposition there was no 
immediate response from within the inclosure. Prob- 
ably because the subject never having been viewed in 
that light before by the invisible Mr. Fewkes, that gen- 
tleman had been too much taken aback to venture any 
opinion on its merits. 

We’d be in the workhouse," said Mr. Chamfer, 
solving the problem with a malevolent scowl at the 
sun. That’s where we would be, Mr. Fewkes — await- 
ing our own turn for burial in a deal packin’ case. How 
do we stand now? " 

'' Stand, sir? ’’ queried Mr. Fewkes, getting off his 
high stool and unconsciously suiting the action to the 
word. 

As regards the corresponding month last year? " 
explained Mr. Chamfer. 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


27 


‘‘ Oh, behind — three hundred pounds at least,’’ re- 
plied his clerk, who appeared to carry the figures in his 
head. 

‘‘ And that’s what they call a Jubilee Year! ” growled 
the undertaker, as he went to the front door and ad- 
mitted a smaller and gloomier counterpart of himself. 
“ I hope you’ve brought us a bit of grist to the mill, 
Thorry, to make up for the def’cit. Did the Wimble- 
don job come off? ” 

“ Did it not! ” replied that young man, confidently, 
and preceding his father into the inner sanctum. 

Trust me for that. We’ve got the job right through- 
out — funeral, monument, valuation, probate, and ev- 
erything.” 

‘‘Any limit, my boy?” chuckled his parent, as he 
brought a decanter and glasses from out of a wash- 
stand cupboard in the corner of the room and poured 
his son out a bumper. 

“ None at all! They were too broken up to go into 
specifications and estimates. ‘ Spare no expense ’ was 
the motto ! ” 

“ Good business — that’s my son,” laughed the under- 
taker, slapping his fat knees in an access of glee, and 
helping himself from the decanter. “ What did I tell 
you only last night? Strike ’em, my son, I said; strike 
’em while the tears are wet on their cheeks. When 
they are dry their hearts and purses dries up along with 
’em. Ha! ha! ha! Here’s to your very good health, 
my lad! Mr. Fewkes, a glass of wine with you! ” 

Mr, Chamfer was so pleased with his son’s success 
that he actually conveyed the wine into the office of 
his aged clerk, thereby astonishing that individual into 
swallowing a portion of the cordial the wrong way, so 
unwonted had been this spontaneous act of grace on 
the part of his employer. 

“And the opposition?” queried the undertaker, in 


28 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


allusion to his rival in the same line of business and 
in the same street. Did you meet with any signs 
of Blagworth? '' 

I passed him on the road coming back/^ replied 
the younger Chamfer, with an amused chuckle, '' and 
it was as good as a play to see his face when he knew 
he had been forestalled, and had got his journey for 
nothing.’' 

'' Any remarks, my son,” pursued the undertaker, 
with an interested smile; any personal references, so 
to speak?” 

‘‘ Only the same as usual,” replied his young hope- 
ful, with a funereal smirk. '' Called me a body-snatch- 
er, and the rest of it. But, bless you, I took it all as a 
compliment, and told him I was flattered, and didn’t 
deserve any praise for doing no more than my duty 
under the circumstances. My word!” broke off Mr. 
Thorwaldsen Chamfer, abruptly, and sniffing in the 
air. That’s bacon, ain’t it, father. I am hungry! ” 
Scagliola,” said Mr. Chamfer, referring to his 
daughter, ‘‘ has gone over to the Downses for the rent 
again, and Florrie is out for the day; but you will find 
the rashers on the top shelf of the oven, and the coffee 
on the hob. The table is laid — laid for two, I am sorry 
to say, Thorry.” 

‘‘What! ” exclaimed his son, with a great show of 
surprise, ” you don’t mean to say Alf’ has been out 
all night, again? ” 

Mr. Chamfer nodded in gloomy assent. 

“ Alfred, I am afraid, will find himself locked out one 
of these fine mornings, for good and all, if there is go- 
ing to be much more of it. These goings-on of his — 
through that Bardolph Club — are beginning to get 
talked about already, Blagworth leading; and General 
Warmley as good as told me yesterday to send him a 
duly qualified undertaker the next time he was in 


BICBY liAVELYN, 29 

want of a grave for the family, instead of a disreput- 
able-looking music-hall comedian — meaning Alfred, of 
course. They won’t put up with this sort of thing much 
longer, Thorry, and I am hanged,” added Mr. Cham- 
fer, with a sudden outburst of temper, “ if I am 
going to stand it myself any longer — the young mon- 
key! After all my careful bringing-up, too!” 

” It’s certainly very strange,” mused his son, softly, 
and eyeing his excited parent with no small degree of 
apprehension. “ I wonder now if he has been and got 
run in.” 

‘‘ If he has. I'll — I’ll excommunicate him,” cried Mr. 
Chamfer, with a very ugly look in his eyes. ‘‘ I’ll have 
him put right out of the family — see if I don’t; and 
then perhaps he’ll find himself, like a fish — landed high 
and dry in — in — mid-ocean,” he added, at a loss for a 
word and spoiling the simile. 

‘‘ I ain’t no sail-or bold ! ” affirmed a voice behind 
them at this juncture, as a young man in a volumin- 
ous boxcoat and wearing a hat like a small dishcover, 
came into the room, balancing a cane on the tip of his 
nose, after the approved manner of a street equilibrist. 
‘‘ ‘ And I never was upon the sea.’ Good morning, 
father! ‘If I chanced to fall therein’ — morning, 
Thorry — ‘ I am sure I couldn’t swim ’ — Ah ! would 
you? ” 

Here he tripped over the doormat, and sent the cane 
flying into a corner of the room. 

“ Go away — get out, sir! ” cried Mr. Chamfer, rising 
in great indignation from his seat, and pointing to the 
door. “ I’ll talk to yon to-night. I am ashamed of you, 
Alfred. Go away, sir; go and bathe vour head. Get 
out!” 

“ Order! Or-dah! ” retorted the latest arrival, with 
a marvelous show of effrontery, as he picked up the 
cane and proceeded to hammer with it upon the table 


30 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


under his father’s very nose. ‘‘ Language, gen-tle- 
men, language! Why, father, you’d make a nice sort 
of a chairman, you would — I don't think — to speak to a 
respectable member of the Bardolphians in the way 
you’ve just done. There, you’ve got the whole shop 
looking at us, hollering like that! Allow me/' and be- 
fore they could prevent him he had refilled his father’s 
glass and tossed off the contents with a dexterous 
turn of the wrist and head that bespoke some consid- 
erable degree of practice. 

Hang you, sir! How dare you! You’ve got too 
much spirits in you already! ” cried his father. 

‘‘ Oh, go bury yourself! ” hiccoughed the young 
man, lightly, and guffawed as he saw his governor 
turn pale at this horrible business suggestion. 

To this Mr. Chamfer’s prodigal, seating himself and 
producing from his coat pocket a cigar stump, which he 
proceeded to light by means of the tongs and a cin- 
der fiiom the grate, added, Aha! Now Richard’s him- 
self again — fire away, father! ” 

But Mr. Chamfer had no intention of doing anything 
of the sort. After two or three gasps at the awful 
thought of interring himself, and sending himself a 
bill for his own funeral, he simply sat and toyed 
with the paperknife and stared in angry silence at the 
unabashed youth, until the latter, as if under some 
mesmeric spell, allowed the cigar end to escape from 
his lips, muttered an incoherent appeal to some per- 
sons to ‘‘‘pass the borrel around, my bho-o-oys!”’ 
slipped out of his chair on to the floor, and inconti- 
nently fell asleep. 

“Take him up to bed, Thorry!” commanded Mr. 
Chamfer, with an air of injured dignity, as he arose and 
reached dowm his hat. “ Take him up to bed and 
lock him in. Fewkes will look after the shop while 
you are getting the Wimbledon funeral under way, and 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


31 

until Scagliola comes back. As regards myself, I 
have got something important on hand which may 
keep me out till late in the afternoon.’’ 

So I see,” observed his son, indicating the jewelry 
with which his father had recently adorned his person. 

Excuse me the liberty, father, but I noticed as I 
came in that you had got ’em all on.” 

“ When you go among Bugs, my son,” explained Mr. 
Chamfer, flashing his ring, and referring to society in 
general, ‘‘ you have got to do as Bugs do. I have just 
had a letter from Colonel Ravelyn — there, you can 
read it — asking me to call upon him at the ‘ Warriors’ 
Club ’ this morning at ten-thirty, punctual. What 
about I can’t for the life of me imagine, unless, per- 
haps, something has gone wrong with the mausoleum 
we put up for him last year on the Dumbton estate.” 

Meaning that six-hundred pounder in granite, I 
suppose? ” remarked Mr. Thorwaldsen Chamfer, re- 
ferring to the Ravelyn sepulcher as though it were 
some obsolete piece of ordnance. 

“ Just so,” replied Mr. Chamfer, “ and the best job 
of the kind that we ever undertook. Ah, my boy,” 
continued the undertaker, shaking his head with an 
air of the profoundest mystery, there was more 
going on down there than showed itself on the surface. 
There was a skeleton there, Thorry, if ever there was 
one.” 

‘‘ In the mausoleum, father? ” 

“ No, the cupboard — the family one, I mean. How- 
somever, you wait till I get back home again, when, 
perhaps, I shall be able to tell you a little more about 
it. Mr. Fewkes, I shall be back again before closing 
time. Ta, ta! Thorry, my boy. Keep an eye on Blag- 
worth, or he’ll underestimate that Wimbledon job out 
of you yet! ” 

And with an admonitory frown at a mason who had 


32 


DIGBY RAVELYH. 


Stopped to blow his nose, and a look of dignified con- 
tempt at the still slumbering Bardolphian, Mr. Chamfer 
strutted out of the shop and into what might have been 
a dogcart in mourning, and drove slowly away. 


CHAPTER III. 

MISS CHAMFER WISHES SHE WERE A PAWNBROKER. 

Once outside the narrow confines of Great Liddell 
street and beyond the observation of the enterprising 
Blagworth (whose establishment it was Mr. Chamfer’s 
wont to pass with upturned nose and a world of dis- 
paragement in his eye), the undertaker gave the reins 
to his horse and to his thoughts at, or about, the same 
time, with the result that the former immediately lapsed 
into its usual professional gait, and the latter fell into 
a train that was not a whit less melancholy in its de- 
velopments. 

For there were two things, that morning, that lay 
heavily on the mind of the worthy undertaker. One 
was the alarming falling off in his business, consequent 
on the advent in Great Lyddell street of a rival; the 
other had reference to the ‘‘goings on ” of his youngest 
son, Alfred, the dissipated Benjamin, whose partiality 
to all-night clubs and lion comiques was so seriously 
hampering him in the proper conduct of a business that 
depended so much dor its success on a due observance 
of all the proprieties. 

Oblivious, for the time being, of his whereabouts, 
the undertaker was about to cross the bridge that 
spans the Thames at Battersea Park when he 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


33 


was suddenly brought to a standstill by the noise 
of people shouting, and the apparition of a young wom- 
an running along the footway, wildly gesticulating, 
and apparently out of breath in her efforts to catch his 
attention; an achievement that would have been impos- 
sible but for the enlisted sympathies of the bystanders, 
who had taken up the hue and cry, and thus aroused 
Mr. Chamfer to an immediate sense of his surround- 
ings. 

Oh, I do wish you would keep your eyes about you, 
father, when you’re going along! ” gasped Miss Scag- 
liola Chamfer, for it was none other than that young 
lady on her way home from the '' Downses.” It’s 
not dignified, I can tell you, to have me and the 
whole street hollering at you like a runaway — and my 
hair coming down, too, I do declare!” 

Miss Chamfer was never much of a beauty under 
the most favorable circumstances; and the temporary 
disarrangement of hair and dress consequent on her 
recent exertions gave her parent, at least, no reason 
to think otherwise. She was considerably below the 
medium height, with large, round, dark eyes, and an 
unwholesome, greeny complexion that bore no re- 
semblance whatever to her titular marble, beyond the 
fact of its being somewhat veiny and mottled. 

'' I am very sorry indeed, my dear,” said her father, 
as he drew up to the curb, and bent to squeeze a hand 
that might have reminded a less gallant person of a 
cold linseed poultice. ''Very sorry, indeed; but the 
fact was I was busy in thought — about Alfred, 
and ” 

" Is he come home yet? ” snapped Miss Chamfer, 
placing her hand bag on the pavement, and proceed- 
ing to reconstruct her coiffure without the least regard 
to time and place. " I passed him at the end of the 
Park road as I was coming out, and then he didn’t 


34 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


seem to know his way about. And/’ continued Miss 
Chamfer, picking up her bag and bridling, I had 
more respect for myself than to be seen talking to any- 
body in his condition — not me ! ” 

‘‘ And quite right too, my dear,” said Mr. Cham- 
fer, with a nervous little smile, for he stood in no in- 
considerable awe of this acidulated offspring of a no 
less formidable mother. ‘‘ You remind me more and 
more of poor Elizabeth every day of your life. Alfred 
did come home, and is, I hope, by this time safely in 
bed. But, my dear, you will be glad to hear that the 
Wimbledon job came off all right this morning. What- 
er-meanter say, Thorry managed to hook ’em fair and 
square, and in spite of Blagworth’s trying to get the 
start of us ! ” 

And a good job, too,” remarked Miss Chamfer, 
ungraciously, adding, after some mysterious process of 
induction, known only to herself, “ for it’s time I had 
a new dress — seeing I’m all in rags.” 

“Well?” queried Mr. Chamfer, tentatively, after a 
long pause, during which his daughter had been 
pointedly scrutinizing the flounces of her maroon-col- 
ored skirt. 

“Well!” echoed that young lady, with a very un- 
filial-like stare. “ Well which? ” 

“ The arrears,” suggested the undertaker, with an 
uneasy little laugh. “ What you went for, my dear, of 
course. Did they pay up — the Downses? ” 

“ Not they,” replied his daughter, who appeared to 
take a morbid delight in imparting disagreeable in- 
formation. “ Not they; nor never will. And it’s my 
firm opinion that they never intended to after they had 
once got fairly settled down.” 

“ Then, by George, out they’ll go, if I stand to lose 
every farthing of what they owe me!” blurted forth 
the undertaker, with a savage energy that surprised 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


35 


even his phlegmatic daughter. “ You gave him the 
ultimatum, of course, as I told you to do. Hey? 

'' Of course I did, father! What do you think? I 
gave him till the end of the month, and after that the 
brokers, and after that again — the key of the street.’’ 

'' And what did he have to say to that? ” inquired Mr. 
Chamfer, considerably mollified. 

Oh, nothing in particular,” replied his daughter, 
abstractedly, while taking fleeting notes from a pass- 
ing bonnet. “ Only that he saw no prospect of getting 
back to work while his sickness lasted; and if it had 
to be that the brokers came in, why, then, the ‘ Lord’s 
will be done.’ ” 

''Hah, he said that, did he?” sneered her father, 
gathering up the reins and preparing to resume his 
journey. " Then I suppose I am nobody, and don’t 
count. Very well, my dear, we shall see all about that 
when he gets the paper to-morrow, and the time comes 
for him to clear out. I hate that chap, Scaggs; I hate 
him more every time I see him, with his solemn, star- 
ing face, and common-sense notions. I wouldn’t be 
sorry if the money wasn’t forthcoming and we had to 
turn ’em out after all. Would you, my dear? ” 

" Not me, indeed! ” replied that amiable young per- 
son. " I wouldn’t care if they starved over it. When 
people have got the kettle on, and know you are fairly 
sinking for a cup of tea, and don’t make an offer, it’s 
time they went.* She was out when I called.” 

" Gone to work, I suppose? ” hazarded Mr. Chamfer. 

" Goodness only knows,” replied his daughter, with 
a shrug of her shoulders and an unpleasant giggle. 
" Don’t ask me, I shouldn’t like to venture an opin- 
ion. Holder was with him, though; and he, of course, 
had more to say in the matter than the other two put 
together.” 

" Fred always did have a lot to say, my dear. In 


36 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


that respect he and William Downs are pretty much of 
a pair. Whater-meanter say, you mustn’t mind him 
< — he is only a bricklayer’s laborer — I don’t.” 

No more did I,” remarked Miss Chamfer, with a 
contemptuous toss of the head. I told him he was 
quite beneath my notice, but that I’d report his in- 
solence to you all the same when I got home.” 

'' That’s my own daughter,” observed Mr. Chamfer, 
highly pleased and smiling. ‘‘ There is nothing like 
self-control after all, my dear. And he ” 

“ Said you might go and bury yourself for all he’d 
fret over it.” 

‘^Hah!” 

At the cruel trade suggestion of his prodigal son, 
iterated by the truculent brickmaker, Mr. Chamfer 
again turned pale, and for the next minute or two ap- 
peared to be strenuously endeavoring to inforce his 
own axiom. 

But as he was only a common laborer,” continued 
Miss Chamfer, with studied unconcern, of course I 
paid no attention to what he said.” 

‘'Maybe, my dear — maybe!” remarked her father, 
with apparent calmness, though his voice trembled, 
and a pink spot appeared on either cheek. “ But I am 
not goin’ to be bullied out of my rights by any man for 
all that. My house is my house, and the rent of it is 
my rent, and when the month’s up it will be ‘ the rent 
or out you go,’ with them — perhaps both, just for that 
chap Holder’s impudence. But I must be moving 
now, my dear. Whater-meanter say, I have got to be 
at the ‘ Warriors’ Club ’ to meet Colonel Ravelyn — our 
old client — by appointment. The letter came after 
you had left this morning.” 

“ I hope, father, you had time to put on your jew- 
elry?” inquired Miss Chamfer, with some anxiety. 

“ I didn’t forget ’em, my dear,” replied the under- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


37 


taker, tapping the breast pocket of his overcoat, and 
exhibiting the swollen third finger of his right hand 
driving glove. '' I hope I know how to make my ap- 
pearance before a gentleman after all these years. If 
I don't I ought to. Good-by, my dear. I shall be 
back to tea." 

And I say, father," cried Miss Chamfer, as her 
parent stirred up the long-tailed cob, and turned into 
the roadway, ‘‘ mind, for goodness sake, and don't go 
dropping your hasparates." 

'' All right, my dear. Don't you alarm yourself. I 
shan't if I can 'elp it," replied her father with a re- 
assuring smile, and drove on. 

‘‘ Father's too soft for those Downses," mused the 
undertaker's daughter, while watching her parent dis- 
appear across the bridge, ‘‘ too easy-going and forbear- 
ing, to my way of thinking. He ought to have left the 
whole business in my hands from the beginning. I 
should like to have seen that Downs girl get over me 
as easy as she seems to have done everybody else! 

I wish I was a pawnbroker! " sighed Miss Cham- 
fer, in continuation, and slowly retracing her steps 
homeward. They don't employ our sex in that line, 
because we're too sympathetic, so they say. But I 
wish they would just give me a trial, for once in a way. 
I don't know which I'd be the hardest on — the men or 
the women. 

Perhaps it would be the men, after all," pursued 
Miss Chamfer, who in earlier life had been disap- 
pointed of a mute, and had since fallen into a species 
of bilious decline. ‘‘ They always show when their 
feelings are hurt; we don't." 

Trusting his daughter to get herself safely housed 
under the parental rooftree in Great Lyddell street, 
Mr. Chamfer drove gloomily on toward the Warriors' 
Club. 


33 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


That gentleman, though preserving an even front 
under his recent rebuffs in the matter of the “ Down- 
ses ’’ and their failure to meet their liabilities for house 
rent, was inwardly chafing to an extent that would have 
been torture in any other profession wherein profanity 
as a sedative was not absolutely barred. 

And small wonder was there for it! Mr. Chamfer, 
whatever may have been his faults, was punctilious to 
a shade in the liquidation of his own monetary obli- 
gations, and naturally, therefore, expected an equal 
degree of alacrity in those who (as in the case of the 

Downses were beholden to him under the ordinary 
laws of debit and credit for the very roof that sheltered 
their heads. 

The fact of the Downses ” (father and daughter) 
having been his tenants for over five years — a period 
during which they had earned for themselves among 
their neighbors a reputation for the strictest integrity 
— was entirely beside the question at issue, and had no 
more to do with Mr. Chamfer, in his position of land- 
lord, or themselves in the relation of tenants, than sen- 
timent had to do with the law that favored neither and 
governed them both. When, therefore, in addition to 
the contumacy of the occupiers it be borne in mind that 
William Downs had incurred the intense dislike of the 
undertaker, for no more valid reason than an incon- 
venient assumption of candor (a virtue Mr. Chamfer 
had rarely fostered in the raw material), it will be read- 
ily assumed that the undertaker was morally as well as 
legally in the right, and that the Downses had placed 
themselves out of court by every rule and point in eth- 
ics and equity. 

By a more or less similar process of reasoning did 
the undertaker arrive at a conclusion that was as satis- 
factory to himself as it will doubtless have been to our 
readers. And thus, for the first time that morning. 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


39 


was he enabled to leave his troubles behind him and 
bestow a little more attention upon the rules of the 
road and the atmospheric conditions under which the 
journey was being made. 

And what a morning it had resolved itself into after 
all! No one would have believed it — other than a 
cockney, who, being, in a manner of speaking, born 
and bred under phenomenal conditions, would have 
believed anything of London — when he saw it. The 
fog had risen and taken itself off with a thoroughness 
that left nothing to be desired ; and with the advent of 
the brilliant sunshine and a soft westerly breeze, every- 
thing seemed to point to the verification of Mr. 
Fewkes’s meteorological forecast for the coming day. 
It was a morning to be permanently borne in mind. 
Such a morning, of a truth, when the aged sick, cow- 
ering throughout the long winter in the shadow of 
grim death, come out into the parks and playgrounds 
to inhale the resinous air, and exultingly cry to one 
another, '' Now we live! 

A morning that will draw the veriest little waif from 
its squalid slum into these self-same parks and gardens, 
there to hang on the railings and stare with an undefin- 
able sense of longing in its miserable little soul, at the 
bright green leaves, the twittering birds, the lilac, the 
may, the ducks, and the crocuses, and to wonder, in its 
poor, ignorant, illogical way why these things have 
been so tenderly conserved while it (the waif, forsooth !) 
is allowed to run incontinently to weed. 

Not that Mr. Chamfer thought anything at all about 
such things. If throughout his life the governing im- 
pulses directing his actions had been based upon any- 
thing half so mawkishly sentimental, the probability is 
that he would have remained with his nose to the 
grindstone right up to that very day. Let there be no 
mistake about it. Mr, Chamfer's head, whatever may 


40 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


have been its proportions from an artistic point of view, 
was a pre-eminently level one. Indeed, so entirely 
were his actions the outcome of his head that a human- 
ist might have been pardoned for supposing that in 
addition to its modicum of brains, it contained his 
heart as well, the latter organ (apart from its circula- 
tory functions) being absolutely useless. The seasons 
and their influences on man were only of interest to 
Mr. Chamfer in connection with their corresponding 
vegetable diets. To him spring and onions were syn- 
onymous terms. Strawberries stood for summer, mar- 
row for autumn, and winter was chiefly known to him 
by its affinity to Brussels sprouts. 

The same in regard to their externals. The vernal 
attributes of that spring morning were as much a 
mere question of sun and manure as the advent of its 
fauna was the natural result of the laws of procrea- 
tion, and you never could have gotten him to think 
otherwise if you had read him every poet through, from 
Chaucer to Tennyson, not excepting Mr. Gray’s '' El- 
egy in a Country Churchyard,” a poem, by the by, that 
had earned for its author Mr. Chamfer’s lasting grati- 
tude, in that it was calculated to divert the public mind 
from earth to earth ” and crematorial tendencies. 

‘‘ The sun is bringing them pesky vermin out before 
their time,” remarked the undertaker, cutting at a 
passing butterfly with his whip, and unconsciously 
pointing the foregoing observations. I wonder they 
don’t stop in the country, where they belong to, instead 
of showing up here to draw the invalids out of town. 
But I suppose they gets tired of it the same as we do — 
and I don’t wonder at it.” 

With this he wheeled off from the embankment into 
the network of somber streets ” and places ” that 
lay between himself and Pall Mall ; and in a very short 
space of time had sped along that exclusive thorough- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


41 


fare and turned into an aristocratic-looking cul-de-sac^ 
wherein the ‘'Warriors'’’ towered conspicuously. 

Outside that world-famed club Mr. Chamfer drew 
up with a grave deliberateness that was entirely pro- 
fessional, and, having handed his horse and trap over 
to a one-armed commissionaire-in-waiting, and re- 
moved his overcoat and gloves for the better display 
of his finery, he mounted the steps of the palatial edi- 
fice, and the next moment was standing within its mas- 
sive portals. 


CHAPTER IV. 

COLONEL RAVELYN^ OF THE WARRIORS’ CLUB. 

It may be needless, perhaps, to observe that the 
“ Warriors’ ” and its internal appointments had hith- 
erto been a great mystery to Mr. Chamfer. Yet, pre- 
pared though the undertaker was for something out of 
the ordinary in the shape of solid club comforts, he 
was, to use his own expression, “ knocked completely 
of a heap ” by the imposing grandeur of the lofty hall, 
with its broad marble staircase, its wealth of stained 
glass, its statuary, its priceless collection of battle 
paintings, and the vistas of corresponding magnificence 
that opened out beyond. 

For a second or two after his entrance he stood as 
one in a dream, and utterly unconscious of the pres- 
ence of a plush-breeched individual in a swallow-tailed 
coat and gilt buttons, who had at once spotted him as 
an intruder and was demanding his name and business. 

In the confusion of the moment Mr. Chamfer pro- 
duced a toothpick, a pipe, a bunch of keys, and a “ pass 


42 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


to the pit ” from out of his several pockets, before the 
cardcase containing his name and address permitted 
itself to come to hand. 

'' Colonel Ravelyn, sir — by appointment,’' he ex- 
plained, deprecatingly, as he proffered his card and 
advanced his ring. 

The plush-legged one, contemning the ring, took the 
card daintily between his forefinger and thumb, and 
proceeded to spell Mr. Chamfer’s name, address, pro- 
fession, and credentials through with a studied and 
supercilious deliberation that, while it afforded intense 
amusement to the hall porters and attendant pages, was 
gall and wormwood to the individual under considera- 
tion. Then, having duly satisfied himself of a con- 
nection between the bearer and the card, he bade the 
former be seated, and with a muttered reference to a 
“ tradesman’s entrance,” took the latter off into the 
interior regions from whence he had come. 

Mr. Chamfer heaved a sigh of infinite relief, and sat 
himself down with his hat on his lap to take in the sur- 
roundings with ever-increasing wonderment. 

I’d have come in evening dress if I had only 
known it,” he presently muttered, as he eyed the row 
of liveried janissaries at the door with considerable 
apprehension. I shouldn’t wonder if I was thrown 
out neck and crop before the colonel turned up. Ah, 
here he is! ” 

A gentleman with a bundle of correspondence in 
his hand had lounged into the hall from an adjoin- 
ing room. He was attired in a tweed shooting-jacket 
with the belt unfastened and dangling behind him, and 
looked for all the world as though he had risen from a 
prolonged nap, as, indeed, in all probability he had. 

But it was not the colonel. 

Mr. Chamfer, while admitting his mistake, was none 
the less relieved at the sight of a member disporting 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


43 


himself in so manifest a condition of undress. But 
the anomaly caused him to stare and ponder all the 
more intensely. 

As time went on and members began to drop in, the 
undertaker had gradually become so interested in 
their movements as to lose all thought of his own per- 
sonality and the business that had brought him there. 
What struck him as being very remarkable was the 
air of complete self-possession and ease that charac- 
terized their every movement as they entered, took 
their letters from the hail porter, and sauntered off 
into the various rooms to read, write, smoke, or feed. 
Some preferred the stairs, and singly, or in twos and 
threes, laboriously climbed its steps until they disap- 
peared in the immensity of the space above. A num- 
ber appeared to be suffering from bodily ailments of a 
long standing and apparently permanent nature, and in 
their case progress was necessarily slow, and at times 
painfully halting. Several were minus arms, and arti- 
ficial legs appeared, to Mr. Chamfer, to be the rule 
rather than the exception. 

'' It’s like being in a convalescent home,’' mused that 
personage, as he watched a stiff-legged old gentleman 
piloting himself up the staircase with the aid of his 
crutch and the handrail. ‘‘ I say, young man,” he in- 
quired of the returning menial in plush; ‘‘why don’t 
they have lifts? ” 

“ Because,” replied the other, “ they wouldn’t use 
’em if they had ’em. Their fathers and their grand- 
fathers never used lifts, and so it ain’t likely that they 
ever will — at least, not so long as they’re a Conserva- 
tive club. Colonel Ravelyn is a-finishing of his break- 
fast — that’s him with the napkin a-coming out! ” 

And the colonel it was. Mr. Chamfer would have 
known him in the densest of crowds, even Vvdthout the 
sound of that tremendous voice to aid him in the 


44 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


search. And a splendid specimen of a thoroughbred, 
thoroughgoing English officer and gentleman he 
looked as he advanced across the matted tiles, with up- 
right figure, and his hand extended to greet the un- 
dertaker in the courtly fashion of a younger day. 

Colonel Ravelyn was a man far above the average 
height of man, judging him, as travelers gauge an in- 
accessible mountain, by the known altitude of its fel- 
lows; in his case as instanced by his somewhat un- 
dersized guest. His head, nevertheless, was propor- 
tionately large and shapely, and was set firmly and 
easily upon shoulders that showed the least possible 
inclination to stoop. His forehead, which was high 
and intellectual looking, stood out grandly prominent 
under the crown of iron-gray hair that was brushed up 
from the back and sides after a fashion much affected 
by his whilom Chief, the Iron Duke, whose manner and 
general appearance, it was whispered, the colonel 
spared no pains to emulate. 

But the most remarkable things about him were his 
eyebrows. These, in startling contrast with his white 
hair and side whiskers, were of a dark brown, almost 
black, color, and, when drawn down over a pair of 
deep set, steely-blue eyes, lent to his usually impressive 
countenance a curious admixture of the sinister and 
the bizarre; his left eyebrow had been lifted con- 
siderably out of its normal position by an old saber 
wound that traversed the entire breadth of his fore- 
head; so in moments of merriment or passion the 
colonel could, with little effort, send sunshine or ter- 
ror to the heart of any individual who was fortunate or 
unlucky enough to set those mobile brows at work. 

The colonel's nose was long and inclined to the 
Roman; his mouth was large, firm, and in keep- 
ing with a remarkably square and massive chin; 
and these, together with a somewhat lengthy up- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


45 


per lip, bore witness to two of their possessor's most 
characteristic attributes: an overweening self-respect 
and a dogged determination. So, in a minor degree, 
did his clothes: black, formal, and hanging about his 
great person after the manner of those ever-to-be-la- 
mented statesmen on pedestals in Parliament square. 
And so, likewise, did his large feet, incased in roomy, 
square-toed boots; his massive gold watch-chain, with 
its assortment of ponderous seals, and his voluminous 
black silk neckcloth, bespotted with bird’s-eyes, and 
hanging outside his waistcoat in a bow of Brobdignagi- 
an dimensions. 

Come into the smoking-room, Mr. Chamfer," said 
the colonel, in a voice almost of reprimand, and pre- 
ceding the undertaker in that direction. 

“ One moment, sir," observed the latter, as he 
paused on the way to further admire the staircase. 

Perhaps you are not aware of it, colonel, but these 
treads and risers are all pure Carrara — every single one 
of 'em." 

‘‘Pooh!" said the colonel, indifferently, “I never 
noticed 'em before. How-dye-do, Bordsley? " (to a 
sun-tanned gentleman with a quarter-deck air, who 
had just bustled into the hall). “ Home again, I see — 
for good? " 

“ Only on leave," replied the other, taking up his 
letters, and glancing askance at the undertaker. 
“ Thought I'd pop off home for a week or two and see 
the mater, and so came on." 

“ And your ship? " 

“The ship! Oh, I left her at Malta." (Bless us! 
it might have been his umbrella in the hallstand, for 
all the concern he exhibited.) 

It was a feature of the “ Warriors'," as it is of most 
clubs where good fellowship prevails, that sequence in 
conversation is absolutely unattainable, owing to the 


46 


BIGBY RAVELYN. 


constant interruptions on the part of passing members : 
a condition of things that affected the colonel and his 
visitor to a degree that precluded all attempt at in- 
telligible converse until they had arrived at a far-off 
corner in the spacious smoking-room, and found them- 
selves comparatively isolated. 

Here the colonel, having previously ascertained that 
the undertaker and Scotch whisky were thoroughly 
in accord from a gastronomic standpoint, ordered a 
portion of that stimulant of a passing waiter, and forth- 
with proceeded to unfold his business with an impres- 
siveness of manner that commanded Mr. Chamfer's 
most serious attention. 

It will be scarcely necessary, sir, on my part to 
preface my remarks by stating that, during your short 
stay at Ravelyn House, I have been enabled to form 
the very highest opinion of your integrity, supreme 
tact, and general trustworthiness — every quality, in 
fact, that goes to make up your common-sense man- 
of-the-world." 

The undertaker murmured a pleased remonstrance. 

An opinion," continued the colonel, waving off the 
waiter who had lingered to listen, ‘‘ that it may be 
further unnecessary to add, has been shared by my 
ward, Miss Troope; by Mr. Vinning (of whose judg- 
ment I have an equally high opinion), and those mem- 
bers of my family whose privilege — yes, privilege, sir 
— it has been to make your acquaintance. How-dye- 
do, Major? " 

To the intense annoyance of Mr. Chamfer, who was 
on pins and needles with anticipation, the sleepy mem- 
ber in the shooting-jacket (now discarded for a fash- 
ionable morning coat) dawdled up to their corner and 
dropped exhaustedly into a vacant chair. 

Major Wolferton," said the colonel, by way of in- 
troduction, as that officer, with his hat tilted over his 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


47 


eyes, and his legs outstretched to their fullest capacity, 
appeared as though about to compose himself for im- 
mediate slumber. 

Mr. Chamfer arose, and bobbed impatiently at the 
major. 

Mr. Chamfer,” said Colonel Ravelyn, indicating 
that individual with a condescending gesture of his 
hand. My — er — er ” (it came unwittingly) ‘‘ under- 
taker! ” 

“ Eh! ” exclaimed the major, with feeble surprise, as 
he pushed his hat off one eye and favored Mr. Cham- 
fer with a drowsy stare. Oh, yers — yers — I see. 
Haw, haw! Taking what's-his-name by the what-ye- 
may-call-it — forelock. Eh, Colonel? But, I say — by 
gum, sir! — perhaps you won’t believe it, but when we 
were out in ’Mbangalulu’s country, we had to bury 
ourselves — yers — yers — a fact, sir, by gum ! ” 

“ No burial conveniences of any kind, I presume, 
sir,” ventured the undertaker, with an air of melan- 
choly interest. 

Yers — yers — yers,” murmured the major, retro- 
spectively, and retiring under the brim of his hat with a 
languid jerk of the head. “ Couldn’t bother about it, 
don’t-ye-know — too devilish hot to keep anybody wait- 
ing, so just shoveled ’em in anyhow, and left ’em. 

‘‘ Lost that there,” he added, referring to his missing 
thumb with as little concern as if it had been his watch- 
guard. Paid the fellow out for it, though, by jingo! 
What d’ye think I did? ” 

‘‘Sent for a soldier to shoot him?” suggested Mr. 
Chamfer. 

“ Sent for my grandmother to tickle him,” retorted 
the major, with a slight frown and removing his hat 
from his eyes, the better to keep the undertaker under 

observation. “ I cut the whole top of his d d black 

head off. That’s what I did. Yers — yers, as clean as 


48 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


any whistle, sir. Disagreeable, perhaps, for both of us, 
but absolutely necessary for me, by gum! ’’ 

And with a great number of muttered Yers — yers,^’ 
the major went off into a state of coma, from which 
he aroused himself presently with an effort, stretched 
himself, and walked painfully away. , 

Major Rodney Wolferton, V.C., of the 15th, Cal- 
cutta Insuperables,'' explained the colonel, impres- 
sively. A very distinguished and gallant officer. 
Present at numerous engagements, and frequently 
mentioned in dispatches in connection with personal 
bravery under fire.” 

And Mr. Chamfer, in his democratic simplicity, heard 
and marveled exceedingly. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE colonel’s CONFESSION. 

‘‘ You were just a-sayin’. Colonel,” prompted the 
undertaker presently, after a somewhat lengthy pause, 
during which his host had sat bolt upright, with a 
far-away look of pained reminiscence in his deep-set 
eyes. 

“ Bless me, so I was! ” cried the colonel, hastily, and 
again proceeded to take up the discourse. 

Where were we? Oh, yes. I was remarking on 
those, nowadays, rare traits of character that it has been 
my fortune to discover in yourself, Mr. Chamfers,” 
(the undertaker again protested). ‘‘ Traits so remark- 
able in their relation to the times in which we move 
that I have felt impelled, as it were, in the hour of 
trouble (of domestic and necessarily vulgar trouble) 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


49 


to tax them, let me hope, not unduly, by an appeal to 
you for your good offices in a matter that affects my- 
self and the family to an extent that is nothing short 
of vital.*' 

Here the colonel's voice, notwithstanding that his 
preliminary statement had obviously been committed 
to memory for the occasion, grew husky; and Mr. 
Chamfer, leaning forward, all eyes and ears, noticed 
that his cheeks had flushed slightly, and that his lips 
were very palpably trembling. 

“ It will be within your recollection, Mr. Chamfer," 
proceeded the colonel, that in addition to my ward 
— Miss Troope — and my amanuensis, Mr. Vinning, 
my youngest son, Mr. Digby Ravelyn, was likewise 
an inmate of Ravelyn House during the time you 
were professionally engaged in the erection of a mau- 
soleum to the memory of his mother, my late wife, in 
the Dumbton grounds." 

I recollect the circumstance of Mr. Digby's pres- 
ence perfectly well. Colonel," said Mr. Chamfer. 

‘‘ It will also be within your recollection that at the 
time of which I am speaking my house and the out- 
buildings were undergoing some necessary redecora- 
tion and repairs at the hands of sundry operatives from 
London." 

So they were," assented Mr. Chamfer, cordially, 
Pendergraft, Nephew & Co., of Battersea, were the 
contractors, and there were carpenters and painters, 
and bricklayers, and plumbers, all over the place. I 
recollect the circumstances distinctly, through your 
forgetting the '' wet paint " sign in the hall, and my 
taking it out for you afterward with a turpsy rag. " 

Among the operatives thus engaged," went on the 
colonel, ignoring the digression, and speaking as 
though he were repeating a lesson from memory, ‘‘ was 
a carpenter." 


50 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


Not Downs! ” cried Mr. Chamfer, getting up from 
his seat in a state of great excitement. ‘‘ Don’t say 
it was William Downs, Colonel. Stop though — of 
course it must have been. Wasn’t he leading hand at 
the time? Pray go on, sir.” 

This carpenter,” pursued the colonel, in hard, low 
tones, as Mr. Chamfer resumed his seat, brought a 
girl down with him to Dumbton — his daughter, so I 
am told.” 

“ Mary,” suggested the undertaker, with increas- 
ing excitement, Mary Downs. Of course he did. 
Weren’t they stopping together at Ashton Farm the 
whole of the time? What could I have been thinking 
about to forget it. She brought him his meals up to 
the house during the dinner hours.” 

‘‘ Very possibly she did,” said the colonel, gloomily, 
“ though, personally, I never saw her. And during 
one of these visits to the house I deeply regret to say 
that my son had the misfortune to meet with this wom- 
an, and — er,” (with a gulp), fell in love with her. That 
is, if moral obliquity so gross can lay claim to any 
such title.” 

Mr. Chamfer sank back upon the fauteuil aghast. 

‘‘ This unnatural regard on the part of my son,” re- 
sumed the colonel, more mechanically than ever, ‘‘ ap- 
pears to have been reciprocated by the wretched object 
of his misplaced affections with that alacrity so com- 
mon among her class when monetary gain, combined 
with gentle breeding, presents a prize so irresistible to 
the vulgar mind.” 

But ” 

‘‘ Allow me, sir,” continued the colonel, sternly, as 
he checked the undertaker with an abrupt motion of 
his hand. Allow me to proceed, sir, with this shame- 
ful confession to the end; and then, having heard me 
throughout, I shall be happy, even at the eleventh 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


51 


hour, to further take you into my confidence, with a 
view of devising such means as may yet serve to frus- 
trate the objects of this most infamous conspiracy. 

When the deplorable state of affairs was one day 
brought to my notice by my ward. Miss Troope — a 
young lady whose qualities and — er — connection it 
has ever been my earnest hope to see welded in matri- 
mony with those of my misguided son — when, sir, I 
say, the whole affair was, very properly, brought to 
my notice by this excellent young lady, I leave you, 
Mr. Chamfer, as a father of grown-up sons and a 
daughter of a marriageable age, to imagine the depth of 
degradation that a possible future revealed to my agi- 
tated mind. Had I then, sir, acted on first thoughts, 
and endeavored to enlist your sympathies on behalf of 
myself and the family, it is more than probable that this 
liason of the servants' hall would have been quashed at 
the outset. But a not unnatural desire to avoid a 
scandal, which the intervention of a stranger might 
have provoked, led me in another direction; and I am 
now obliged to confess, with the deepest sorrow, that 
matters have since gone steadily on from bad to worse, 
until the disease — it can be nothing else — which might 
have been checked on its appearance, would now seem 
to be about to run its full course. 

‘‘ On remonstrating with my son on his folly, and 
the utter hopelessness of his pretensions, and intimat- 
ing my desire that his clandestine visits to Ashton 
Farm should immediately cease, my astonishment and 
dismay may be further imagined when the boy, hith- 
erto most pliant to my commands, insisted on his right 
of age, to decide for himself on a question ‘ that so 
deeply affected his future happiness.' His happiness, 
forsooth! as if that condition in all its ephemeral sen- 
suousness, was to be seriously considered for one mo- 
ment, beside the paramount claims of family honor! 


52 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


Mr Vinning having, somewhat to my surprise, 
taken up a neutral attitude when the subject was 
broached, I had no alternative but to act — and to act 
resolutely. The contract for the re-decoration and re- 
pairs was by my orders immediately broken off under 
forfeit, and the men sent back to town on the following 
day — Downs, the carpenter, and his daughter, along 
with the rest of them.’’ 

So you did,” murmured the undertaker, sotto voce, 

though I couldn’t make head or tail of it at the 
time.” 

'' And I there and then forbade my son having any 
further intercourse, either verbally or by correspond- 
ence, with the vulgar object of his regards, under pain 
of instant expulsion from the home he had already 
done so much to dishonor.” 

'' And it worked, of course? ” interrupted the under- 
taker, breathlessly. 

‘'I beg your pardon?” queried the colonel, with 
some impatience. 

It worked — the plan you had adopted, I mean; it 
did the trick? ” 

But the question was too obviously vulgar to merit 
the colonel’s serious notice, and so he went on with his 
monotonous lesson to its conclusion, as though the 
interruption had never occurred. 

My son, contrary to all our speculations, chose to 
adopt an exceedingly foolish view of the course events 
had taken; and after a disagreeable interview, dur- 
ing which, I regret to say, evidence of perverted breed- 
ing displayed itself on more than one occasion in his 
choice of language, he saved all further waste of breath 
on my part by abruptly leaving my presence and his 
home, and returning that night to London, where he is 
at the present moment living — God only knows where, 
or how — but where, sir, I can assure you he is at per- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


53 


feet liberty to live. Ay, and, by heavens! to starve, and 
die, for all the help I shall extend to him while this 
abominable marriage is in contemplation 1 ’’ 

The colonel's voice, during the latter part of his 
harangue, had sunk from its usual loud barrack-yard 
tones into a hoarse whisper, and his eyebrows were now 
rising and falling over his blazing eyes in a manner 
that was not at all pleasant to behold. It was only 
with the snapping of a penholder he had snatched from 
the table in his passion that he allowed his outraged 
feelings to recede from the climax of wild agitation 
into which he had lashed them. 

Pray pardon this somewhat unseemly display of 
temper on my part, Mr. Chamfer," said he, in quieter 
tones, as he fanned his heated brow with the table 
napkin he had unconsciously retained in his possession; 

but the circumstances were of too painful a nature 
to admit of studied expression. 

Don't you mention it. Colonel," replied his guest, 
in accents of genuine sympathy, as the apparition of a 
young man wearing a fashionable boxcoat and an in- 
efficient hat foregathered with painful distinctness in 
his inner consciousness. Don't you mention it for 
one moment. For any circumstances connected with 
the Downses couldn't be aught else but painful to any 
one's feelings." 

The man appears to be known to you," observed 
the colonel, with reviving interest. 

I should say he was," sneered the undertaker, 
considering 1 have known him off and on this five 
years, and that he is at this very moment usurping a 
house of mine on the rent-free principle — and saucy, 
too, at that!" 

It w^as now the colonel's turn to exhibit astonish- 
ment. 

‘‘ Your tenant? " 


54 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


Under compulsion only. I am turning him out at 
the end of the month for non-payment of rent.” 

The colonel appeared for some time to be buried in 
lively thought. Then with an assumption of his 
former dignity, he again broke silence. 

Personally speaking, I have nothing against this 
man Downs that might in any way be construed into 
animosity, for I was given to understand by Digby that 
the daughter’s — er — intrigue was not made known to 
the father for reasons not wholly unconnected with a 
morbid class hatred on his part of everything per- 
taining to the — er — better section of the community.” 

‘‘ Downs,” broke in Mr. Chamfer, hotly, “ always 
was a discontented, low-bred socialist of a dangerous 
type!” 

“ Of a necessity, he would be,” said the colonel, eas- 
ily. For discontentment in any position in life will 
ever breed your Radical. And a Radical, Mr. Cham- 
fer, as I have before had occasion to explain, is a per- 
son who will take up the negative side of any and 
every question under the sun! ” 

‘‘ So he will,” acquiesced the undertaker, with alac- 
rity (for the political tendencies of his profession are 
popularly supposed to coincide with those of the 
Church and Publican interest). So he will of a cer- 
tainty. And if it wasn’t for us Tories taking up the 
negative side of kis question whenever he made a move, 
I should like to know where the country would have 
been now! ” 

‘‘ Don't*! ” exclaimed the colonel, with an affected 
movement of alarm. ‘‘ Don’t, I beg of you, sir. The 
prospect is too impossible for a moment’s serious con- 
templation.” 

I should think it was, sir,” said Mr. Chamfer, feel- 
ingly. It’s one of those things that are apt to drive 
a man off his head just to think about it even. I pre- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 55 

sume then, you have had no tidings of your son’s 
movements lately, Colonel Ravelyn? ’’ 

'' Your question, sir,” replied the colonel, reverting 
to his former pomposity of manner, “ brings us im- 
mediately to the point about which I would have your 
advice, and possibly your — assistance.” 

“ Colonel Ravelyn,” said Mr. Chamfer, rising and 
offering his hand to his host with a spontaneous out- 
burst of generous confidence that was extremely 
touching to witness, there is my hand, sir. Take it, 
and along with it my services, as far as they will be of 
any use to you. I, too, am a father, and know what it is 
as such to have a son with a disposition to take the bit 
in his teeth and do a bolt on his own account. Pray 
command me, sir, to any extent.” 

“ I had no doubt about that point for a second,” 
returned the colonel, as he shook the undertaker’s prof- 
fered hand warmly, and again settled himself down to 
the business under discussion. “ It occurred to me, 
Mr. Chamfer,” said he, that if certain eventualities 
hitherto withheld even from my son were to be brought 
to the notice of this woman Downs the probabilities 
are that she might at the last moment be persuaded 
to relinquish her preposterous claims upon this un- 
fortunate boy, and so pave the way to a similar act of 
renunciation on his part. 

“ The Dumbton estate, as I think I before informed 
you, is specially entailed, and will, in the natural course 
of events — my — er — decease, in fact, pass to my eldest 
son Algernon, who, beyond a strange addictiveness to 
commercial matters, is all that the head of an ancient 
family might wish his next male representative to be. 
At his death Digby, his brother, would under this 
special provision succeed him in the direct line. That 
being so, you will understand that with the comfortable 
allowance I had hitherto granted to him, the boy has 


56 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


been enabled to look with a certain amount of equa- 
nimity on all that the future might bring to him. And 
so he undoubtedly might, were I prepared to regard 
his domestic arrangements with the same complacence. 
But, sir, I am not. Far from it. Therefore, Mr. 
Chamfer, with the intelligence of my son's marriage 
with this daughter of a carpenter — Downs, my solici- 
tors will receive my instructions to move forthwith.” 

‘‘ And cut him off — a capital move, too,” chuckled 
the undertaker, as the possibility of some similar means 
of repression came into his mind in respect of his own 
scapegrace son. ‘‘ But the step, I believe, will be an 
expensive one. Solicitors don't move for nothing, you 
know. Colonel.” 

The question of expense,” observed Colonel Rave- 
lyn, haughtily, “ does not enter in any way into this 
question.” 

Mr. Chamfer's eyes lit up with eager anticipation. 

But,” continued the coloned meaningly, “ if you, 
sir, on the other hand, with your intimate knowledge 
of life in, shall we say, its lower phases, and the addi- 
tional advantage of being personally known to this 
man Downs — if, I say, under these favorable condi- 
tions, you were to immediately seek this girl out and 
lay before her the inevitable consequences that would 
follow were this marriage to be consummated, I have 
no doubt that the valuable services conferred on our 
family by a successful appeal to her natural sense of 
greed could with little difficulty be reduced to figures 
representing a sum of — shall we say five hundred 
pounds down ” 

''Stop!” cried Mr. Chamfer, hastily producing his 
notebook and making a hurried entry. " Excuse me. 
Colonel, but it's a habit I've taken on since I was a 
boy, through an accident to the head and consequent 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 57 

loss of memory on occasions. Six hundred pounds 
down, I think you said? ’’ 

‘‘ Did I?’’ remarked the colonel, carelessly. 

‘‘ That was my impression,’’ said Mr. Chamfer, as he 
completed the entry. '' Six hundred pounds down, 
providing I am able to produce documentary or other 
conclusive evidence declaring this marriage to be fin- 
ally off for good and all. Have I understood you cor- 
rectly? ” 

You have.” 

Then,” said Mr. Chamfer, with a complacent smile, 
I may safely say, without prejudice to your pocket, 
Colonel, that I consider the money already as good as 
banked.” 

You have also my full authority,” continued Col- 
onel Ravelyn, to offer her as a solatium for her dis- 
appointed — er — expectations, a further sum down of 
five hundred pounds — more, if necessary, should her 
manner appear to warrant the offer.” 

You’re a gentleman. Colonel Ravelyn,” cried the 
undertaker, with great apparent admiration, and mak- 
ing the necessary memorandum in his notebook. A 
perfect gentleman, and one that it’s always a pleasure 
for any one to do business with. There,” he mut- 
tered to himself, as he replaced the notebook in his 
pocket. ‘‘ That’s as good evidence in a court of law as 
a dozen witnesses — if only some fools knew it.” 

Should both these means fail in effecting her repu- 
diation of my son,” said the colonel, as he slowly arose 
and thus proclaimed the interview at an end, ‘‘ you will 
of course be at perfect liberty to make use of her fath- 
er’s authority, or your own (in your position as land- 
lord) or any other legitimate mode of action or per- 
suasion that may be calculated to obtain the desired 
end. But should you, on the other hand, unfortu- 
nately fail in your endeavors, I shall at once find means 


58 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


of acquainting my son with my resolve, and will prob- 
ably allow him an interval of — say a week — to make 
up his mind definitely as to the course he will, in the 
circumstances, elect to follow. As regards myself, I 
am leaving town to-morrow night for Dumbton, where, 
I need hardly inform you, I shall avv^ait with some con- 
siderable anxiety the results of your commission. 

'' A commission,” concluded the colonel, as he back- 
ed the undertaker into the hall and handed him his hat 
and umbrella with an air of dignified condescension, 
that deserves all the success it calls for, in that it is 
being undertaken with the laudable purpose of re- 
claiming one whose contemplated action would mark 
him among people of breeding as a person who was 
utterly — irretrievably — lost to all respect. Mr. Cham- 
fer, I have the honor to wish you a very good day.” 


CHAPTER VL 
‘‘dear, dear, mother!” 

When, later on that same evening, the street door of 
No. 13 Dedborough street swung open and gave 
egress to Digby Ravelyn, on his way to meet by pre- 
arrangement, the objective cause of all the foregoing 
pother, Mrs. Busby, from behind her shop counter and 
its pile of evening “ specials,” was fairly led, for once 
in a way, to doubt the evidence of her own senses. 

Never since the day when she had first laid eyes 
on him had he nodded and smiled at her so graciously 
in passing, nor moved across the street and along the 
flagstones over the way with so erect a carriage and 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


59 


swinging a stride. I'o one whose experiences of the 
shabby-genteel and migratory of either sex extended 
over a period of a quarter of a century, this sudden 
change from an air of hopeless penury to one of solvent 
independence was sufficient in itself to engender the 
very gravest suspicions; and Mrs. Busby felt that the 
occasion called for more than a mere passing mental 
note. 

‘‘ Go up, Marian,'’ called she, to her maid-of-all- 
work in the kitchen below, ‘‘ and count the pictures in 
the first floor anteroom, and let me know if the clock's 
standin' on the sideboard. It may be some good tidin's 
he's got this morning from his publishers that started 
him off so cheerily; but I don't trust no young liter- 
ary authors since that last one as called hisself one 
turned out to be a forger in disguise. Look sharp! be- 
fore I loses sight of him down the street." 

When, therefore, the girl returned almost immedi- 
ately afterward, with the gratifying intelligence that not 
only were the household gods intact, but that she had 
found the rent-book, together with the outstanding 
balance in cash upon the table, Mrs. Busby's suspi- 
cions at once gave place to so pleasurable a sense of se- 
curity, that she there and then paid the girl over her 
arrears of wages, and sent her up to the anteroom with 
the receipted book and a clean towel. 

I should like to know where that came from," 
mused the landlady to herself, as she dropped the rent 
into the till, and made the necessary entry in her 
daybook. He didn't have it on him last night, when 
I asked him for it; and being hard cash, it couldn't have 
come by the post this morning. I wonder, now " 

In less than ten minutes from the time he had left 
his lodgings Digby Ravelyn found himself upon the 
embankment, and pursuing the identical road chosen 
by Mr. Chamfers that morning when calling on his 


6o 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


father at the Warriors’/’ The evening was closing in 
with heavy, lowering clouds from the southwest and 
a faint odor of damp earth wafted from afar brought 
unmistakable evidence of approaching rain, even 
without the testimony of the weatherwise toilers hur- 
rying in the direction of their distant suburban homes. 

Paying little, if any, heed to the threatening aspect 
of the heavens (for the young man was very deeply in 
love) Digby Ravelyn rapidly crossed the bridge, and, 
turning immediately to the left, found himself in a 
very short space of time in that portion of the people’s 
playground devoted exclusively to the conserving of 
palms and other sub-tropical plants. 

Here, after a rapid turn among the windings of an 
exceedingly romantic thoroughfare, and wistfully 
scanning the surrounding shrubbery for any tokens of 
playful ambush on the part of the object of his search, 
he composed himself with a disappointed sigh, upon 
the nearest available seat, and patiently proceeded to 
await further developments. 

And yet it was upon rare occasions, such as the fore- 
going, that this unfortunate young man found himself 
at leisure to conduct his thoughts back into the past, 
and review in brief the earlier stages of a career that 
once upon a time had held out every promise of a 
highly honorable termination. Then it was that he 
saw himself again, in imagination, a tiny boy prema- 
turely fresh from school — the prettiest of curled little 
darlings that ever pleased a mother’s eye; surrounded 
by every luxury that the most blase and exacting adult 
could possibly have desired, and a small power in his 
father’s numerous household, whose slightest passing 
whim immediately assumed the shape of a very for- 
midable enactment. And all this the outcome of an ex- 
travagantly tender solicitude of a doting, if some- 
what foolish mother, fond to a degree of her only boy, 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 6 1 

and ever seeking to foster within him her own weakly 
precept of universal love and sympathy toward man- 
kind. 

How such outrageous sentiments could ever have 
taken their rise in one so gentle of birth as Gwendoline 
Ravelyn will probably remain a mystery to all time; 
and that, notwithstanding the unsubstantiated humor 
of the poor lady's great-grandfather's having been con- 
nected in some occult manner with ‘‘hardware"; a 
taint in heredity about as absurdly improbable as a 
similar strain remotely connected with “ softgoods," 
though the latter proposition might at first sight seem 
to carry an air of probability on the face of it. 

Of his father, the colonel, he had during this period 
seen very little, and about whom (must it be admitted) 
he had cared rather less. True, he had treasured up 
in his mind a vivid recollection of those periodical visits 
to that formidable person's study, when some vulgar 
peccadillo, the indirect result of his mother's perverse 
teaching, had necessitated a prescribed course of moral 
homily and corporal punishment. But on these 
special occasions he had ever been attended by his 
arch-abetter in all his youthful indiscretions; who, 
truth to say, appeared to take his punishments a great 
deal more to heart than the actual culprit himself. For, 
to the credit of boyhood be it said, he treated his bodily 
chastisements with less apparent concern than the poor 
sobbing creature who was morally guilty of having 
contributed to these disastrous consummations. But 
he was, nevertheless, all the more grateful to her for a 
display of sympathy that went a long way toward miti- 
gating the severity of his after-smarts. And this quite 
apart from the great love he had always borne her 
memory, which was only natural and in the everyday 
fitness of things. 

By force of contrast with his present miserable con- 


62 


DIGBY EAVELYN. 


dition, his thoughts would then revert to those idle, 
happy days at college, with their interregnums of Lon- 
don dissipation and Continental travel; the years of 
pleasurable inertia that followed, in the society of those 
very men-about-town who now made no scruple at 
shunning him; or at Dumbton Manor House, in the 
companionship of his father's ward — that noble, high- 
spirited girl, whose best feelings he had so wantonly 
insulted, on the mere approach of one whose birth and 
parentage were still to him an unknown quantity. 
What wonder, then, that he should have endeavored to 
dismiss such thoughts from his mind, and, instead, have 
striven to commune, in the spirit, with the mother 
whose counsel and pity he would at this moment have 
given worlds to have possessed. 

How clearly, nay vividly, her dear face comes 
back to him now, as he sits there with folded arms and 
drooping chin, listening to the night winds sighing 
among the shrubbery, as they used to do on the occa- 
sions of his stolen visits to her graveside in Dumbton 
Cemetery. Instinctively his thoughts hark back to the 
scene of that last visit to his bedroom — the night be- 
fore his departure for college, and a week before her 
sudden illness and death. The night when she had 
kissed him (as she thought, in his sleep) and then 
softly moved to the fireplace, there to stand with her 
pretty foot poised on the fender-stool, and her head 
resting against the mantelpiece — and there to think, 
and think, and then silently to weep. 

He can see her sweet child-face outlined in half 
profile against the dark red background of the 
old fireplace as distinctly as though he were able 
to stretch forth his hand and play, as he had 
so often done, with the mass of short curly 
locks that formed a veritable turban about her 
shapely little head. ‘‘ Dear, dear mother! ” There 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


63 


are the large, dark eyes, almost hysterical in their 
bright tearfulness; the broad, white forehead, so very 
like marble in the chastening light from the dying em- 
bers; the well-rounded, petite figure, with its dress of 
dark homespun; and the neat white cuffs and turned- 
down collar (the colonel's bete noir), that, together with 
the short curls and ordinarily vivacious looks, had lent 
to her at times an appearance that w^ould have been 
considered boyish were they not qualified by the char- 
acteristic femininity of the neck and throat. If he had 
only known then that he was fated never again to look 
upon that loved face on this side of the grave; or had 
dreamed, even, of so great a calamity while listening 
to her footfalls dying gradually away amid the muf- 
fled sound of closing doors in some remote angle of 
the old building, how he would have clung and wept 
— how he would have begged and prayed to Heaven 
in its infinite mercy, to take him away that night, so 
that this poor, fond, foolish, weak little mother might 
be spared — 

Digby! '' 

The interruption was a timely one, for in another 
moment, we believe, the young man would have been 
in a flood of tears. 

It was Mary Downs, who had approached unob- 
served and had spoken. 


64 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


CHAPTER VII. 

MARY DOWNS. 

The young girl who stands before our hero in the 
half-light, with her large, gray eyes gazing frankly 
down into his and her lips parted in childlike amuse- 
ment at his startled look of surprise, could scarcely 
have laid claim to the title of a peerless democratic 
beauty. 

Her features, without being absolutely irregular, 
would nevertheless have verged dangerously on the 
commonplace, were it not for the relief afforded by the 
healthful brightness of those wonderfully trustful gray 
eyes, and a complexion which, although of an almost 
waxen pallor, was as naturally pure as it was extremely 
beautiful: a relief that was further heightened by the 
mass of dark brown curls that peeped out in every di- 
rection from under a natty little velvet bonnet, and 
defied in their profusion all her efforts to keep them 
from occasionally straying down over the wide white 
forehead and dimpled cheeks. Her well-developed — 
nay, womanly proportions (Mary Downs was twenty- 
one, if she was a day) were set off by garments so neat, 
orderly, and admirably fitting, that it was next to im- 
possible for any man (outside a society editor) to say 
to what one particular feature they owed their peculiar 
charm — so entirely in keeping was everything, from 
the coquettish little aigrette in her bonnet down to the 
dainty little heels of her lace-up French boots. 

But it was not until Digby Ravelyn had uttered her 
name in response that the wonderful charm of ex- 
pression imparted to those pale features by the smile of 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


65 


genuine affection that lit them up and remained upon 
them could be appreciated. She seated herself quietly 
by his side, and slipped her arm gently through his. 

And so Digby Ravelyn was again carried away, as 
he always was, in the actual presence of this daughter 
of the plebian house of Downs. With not only a 
measure of personal beauty to commend her, but the 
qualities of mind and heart that go to make up our 
ideal of what our gentle helpmates ought to^kc, when 
mentally comparing them with their white-robed sisters 
in Heaven, to look at her made her sweetheart feel 
he had every excuse in voluntarily forsaking caste. 
For if ever there was an angel upon earth — in the 
opinion of her neighbors — that merited the term in its 
fullest significance, that angel was none other than 
“ Maysie ’’ Downs, the joiner's daughter. 

For some short space of time the prospective heir to 
the Dumbton estates and Mary Downs sat there, silent, 
and no doubt supremely happy, after the wont of lov- 
ers whose suit is regarded with disfavor by their natural 
guardians, and when realizing in full the first sweet 
fruits of a stolen interview. Then, as the same idea 
possibly occurred to the young girl in the course of her 
meditations, she observed to her companion in tones 
whose sweetness would assuredly have melted his 
father in his most uncompromising moods 

I am very sorry, Digby dear, to have kept you 
waiting out so long in the cold wind — without your 
overcoat, too " (here she took occasion to turn his coat 
collar about his ears), but father detained me so long 
talking about — you know, dear, I couldn't rest hap- 
pily after our conversation last week about him and 
the absolute necessity there was for letting him know, 
sooner or later, how matters stood in regard to our 
approaching marriage, and — Digby, you are not an- 
gry?" 


66 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


Angry — my angel ! ’’ 

“ Digby — don't, or they'll know we are not married! 
I thought you wouldn't be cross, dear, so I screwed up 
my courage to the sticking point and made a clean 
breast of it — I told him the truth, Digby — from the 
commencement when we first met each other at Dumb- 
ton, up to my going out this very evening to meet you 
here." 

‘‘ What! you dared to tell him that! Why, Mary, I 
am beginning to think you have more real pluck in that 
tender little heart of yours than whole generations of 
Ravelyns put together." 

More pluck, indeed! Was it not the example of her 
unflagging bravery in meeting her own domestic 
troubles that had stirred him up after all these years 
of luxurious indolence to face the discomforts of the 
Dedborough street anteroom without so much as a 
murmur; and that was even causing him at that very 
moment to believe that Mr. Barbelow's philosophy was 
a mistaken one; that the world was, on the whole, a 
right-down, easy-going sort of a planet to live upon, 
after all. Pluck, indeed! If half a lifetime of hope- 
less penury, with its squalid surroundings and daily 
round of self-denials were only commutable by ordeal 
of battle, how many are there who, to end or mend it, 
would not gladly shoulder the musket and brave the 
bullet? But then, Digby Ravelyn had not yet tired of 
his lovers' paradise — at least, not while Mary Downs 
was at his side to cheer him onward by sheer force of 
example. Such, at least, was the subtle influence her 
presence always exercised over him — if he had only 
known it. But, ah, me! that was just the one flaw 
in this great wild gospel of sympathy that had ever 
puzzled his large-hearted little mother. If they would 
only but know it! " had been her daily cry — and what a 
hopeless, useless cry it was. Therefore Digby, you 


‘ DIGBY RAVEI.YN. 


67 


see, as a man, and a young man at that, was not by any 
means the first of his sex who had taken all the credit 
of his fortitude to himself, and debited ‘^the woman ’’ 
with his failures. 

‘‘ I told him all, Digby,'’ she went on, eagerly. 

How you, in your noble unselfishness, had left your 
home and family, and forsaken all you held precious in 
the world ’’ 

- Except ” 

Except me, dear, in order that we two might never 
part again. But, oh, Digby, if you only knew how it 
ached my heart to tell him (the father who holds truth 
and honor above his life, even) how I had all along 
been deceiving him, you would have pitied me — I 
know you would ! ’’ 

It was apparently not too late to do so even now; 
and, when circumstances admitted, she again went on: 

And he has forgiven us, Digby. From the bottom 
of his good, kind heart he has freely forgiven us our lit- 
tle deception. At first, when he heard your name, 
and knew who you were, I thought he was going to be 
very angry and refuse his consent, for you know how 
firm he is in his prejudices against the aristocracy, and 
how he has always desired to keep himself and me with- 
in our own class. But I soon kissed away the frown on 
his forehead, and obtained his free pardon for both of 
us — but on one condition only.” 

And that? ” 

'' When we next meet it may be beneath his roof, 
and in his presence, in order that he may have the op- 
portunity of ‘ studying ’ you, as he calls it, and making 
himself better known to you. You won’t refuse me 
that, will you, Digby, — for my sake? ” 

Mary! ” 

There, I knew you wouldn’t, dear, and I promised 


68 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


him as much on your behalf. And — oh, I am so happy, 
now! ” 

Then followed another and still longer interval of 
rapturous silence, broken only by the rustling of the 
palms and the occasional step of some footsore waif 
slinking painfully by. 

'' And when you do call on us,” said the young girl, 
again taking the lead, and bending to look the more 
closely into his face, '' you will try to make the best of 
our — our poverty; will you not, Digby — again for my 
sake?” 

Why, of course I shall, Mary! ” replied the young 
man, cheerily, and taking her hand in both his own. 

Are we not both of us in the same category now, 
as far as worldly riches are concerned; and why, then, 
should I turn back now. And yet,” he added, musing- 
ly, I am bound to say, I was actually on the point of 
breaking down, myself, this morning; and would most 
certainly have done so — utterly, had it not been for 
the friend in need, who sometimes does turn up outside 
of fiction, and who in this case, I verily believe, will 
be the means of my publishing not only my book, but 
our banns as well. P'or you mustn't forget, my dear, 
that we have agreed that they shall appear simultane- 
ously, with two editions to follow.” 

‘‘ How witty you are, Digby! ” she smiled, proudly. 

I only wish I was half as clever.” 

'' All in good time, Mary,” said the young man, with 
considerable self-complacency. ‘‘ Wait till the good 
days come, and then you shall see how I will take you 
in hand and make quite a clever little woman of you — 
perhaps an authoress. Who knows ! The present sit- 
uation is, after all, only a temporary one. Parents and 
even brothers don’t live for ever, and in good time 
Digby Ravelyn and his little wife, as co-proprietors of 
Ravelyn House and the Dumbton estates, can afford 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 69 

to look back upon their day of adversity as upon a 
very pleasant reminiscence. 

“ As regards your father/' continued the young 
man, with the air of a prince conferring a special fa- 
vor, his troubles will, of course, cease immediately 
on the appearance of my work and the competence it 
will bring with it. We will send him off at once to 
the seaside, ‘ Maysie,' to recuperate from the effects 

of that terrible scaffold fall, and " 

How noble it is of you, Digby, to say that! I am 
sure neither he nor myself will ever forget it as long 
as we shall live! ” 

Bless the child!" cried the young man, with 
amused surprise. '' How fond she must be of him. I 
am beginning to feel just the least bit jealous of him. 
Of course there are no others." 

‘‘ Of course not ! " answered the young girl, with a 
smile that changed into a rather embarrassed blush as 
she remembered several amatory and anonymous let- 
ters she had lately received. 

‘‘ I should be fearfully jealous if there were," laughed 
Digby; then, noting the roses on his companion's 
cheeks, his eyes grow serious, and even fiery — indica- 
tion that the young man^has quick temper in regard to 
his lady love. 

‘‘ He was always a dear, good father to me," inter- 
jected the young girl, with great fervor of manner, 
as if anxious to turn the conversation from herself to 
her parent. Toward me he has never altered one iota 
in his affection, since that day when I first remember 
his carrying me in his arms up to bed. It was the night 
of that morning when my mother died, Digby. But 
I was so young at the time that I have scarcely any 
memory of her face, beyond its marble coldness, as he 
held me over her to kiss it for the last time. Poor 
mother! I have often longed to know a great deal 


70 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


more about her young days — before father met and 
persuaded her to marry him against the wishes of both 
their parents — for it was a runaway match he once 
told me. Though beyond that he doesn’t like to talk 
about it, and I never trouble him by asking him any 
questions.” 

‘‘ And your father himself was not always a car- 
penter, Mary. At least, so you have hinted to me on 
more than one occasion?” 

He and his brother were brought up in much better 
circumstances, he has told me; but they both left their 
homes, owing, I believe, in some way to this marriage 
— before they were of age. Father coming to Lon- 
don, where, being always of a mechanical turn of mind, 
he apprenticed himself to carpentering, and soon rose 
to be a foreman, and has remained in that position ever 
since. Uncle George, at the same time, went away to 
America and has never written to his brother since the 
day they parted — nor have we since heard whether he 
is living or dead.” 

And your father has never given you any reason 
for this quarrel between them, or taken you into his 
confidence as to his parentage? ” 

‘‘ Never, probably because it might cause me to be- 
come discontented with my lot. Poor father! he need 
never have any fear on my account. For how could I 
have been happier than I have been all these years. 
The only shade that has fallen over our lives came with 
the accident that has confined him for months to the 
house ” 

And drove you, my darling, out into the pitiless 
world to work instead 1 ” 

Could I have done otherwise, Digby? ” cried his 
companion, with enthusiasm. '' How many men in his 
position would have hoarded from their earnings to 
provide for their children’s education! But he, in his 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


71 


love for me, has devoted every spare penny of his 
wages to my comforts and my schooling, trusting — 
always trusting — to the future for what it might bring 
him. How, then, could I, with the knowledge of all 
this, remain at home and see him starve, when the few 
shillings I could earn at dressmaking would suffice to 
keep him from w^ant. But in a month’s time or per- 
haps less,’’ she added, with a bright smile, ‘‘ he will be 
quite well, and strong enough to go back to his work 
again, and then all will go on happily as before. There 
is only one thing that causes me any uneasiness now, 
and that is the rent. It has lately fallen into arrears, 
and Miss Chamfer, our landlord’s daughter, has, I am 
sorry to say, been a little hasty with father about pay- 
ment. But I am sure it could not have been with Mr. 
Chamfer’s sanction, for he has always been so very 
polite — to me especially. They all are — and yet Fred 
is always warning us against him.” 

Who is Fred? ” inquired the young man, hastily. 

'' Mr. Holder — we always call him Fred — a friend of 
father’s, and a bricklayer’s laborer. Dear, ridicilous 
old Fred! (Ha! ha! ha!) But you mustn’t laugh at 
him when you see him, Digby. I don’t think he would 
quite appreciate it from anyone but me. But he is so 
amusing, without in the least knowing it; and, next to 
father, I believe he would go through fire and water 
for me! ” 

'' H’m, I must see this ‘ Fred ’,” muttered the young 
man beneath his breath. 

At any rate,” proceeded his companion, I have 
made up my mind to see Mr. Chamfer personally to- 
morrow evening, and explain to him that he need not 
have any fear that the rent will not be forthcoming in 
the end. He is sure to fall in with this — especially as 
we have been his tenants for so many years. He 
couldn’t be harsh with us now — could he, Digby?” 


72 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


If he ever should be, my dear, just you let me 
know and Til wring his confounded neck! Would to 
heaven 1 could have foreseen this when I was at Dumb- 
ton, and while enjoying the more than ample income 
my father allowed me. I might have helped your 
father then, Mary.’’ 

'' His pride, Digby dear, would have prevented his 
accepting any help from outside. We have many 
friends even now — both known to us and anonymous — 
who would be glad to advance us the money, but he 
has always set his face steadily against receiving char- 
ity in any form.” 

This set the young man thinking about Mrs. Busby 
and her rent and about Mr. Barbelow and his patron- 
age; and his thoughts made him feel anything but com- 
fortable. 

And tell me, Digby,” said his companion cheerily, 
for she had noted his rueful look and hastened to dispel 
it; ''will you really become the owner of Dumbton 
some day; Dumbton — with all those beautiful meadows 
and woods that we used to wander through on those 
happy summer evenings? ” 

" Of course I shall, my dear. There is nothing on 
earth to prevent it, I hope. I should find myself in a 
deuce of a fix if it were otherwise, I can assure you; 
especially if the public were to tire of my effusions.” 

" Then you — I mean we — would always remain poor 
in that case,” she answered him; her voice sinking al- 
most to a whisper, and slightly withdrawing her hand 
from his. 

" Yes, indeed. A dreary prospect truly. Upon my 
word, Maysie, I don’t know how we should manage 
to survive it — do you? But there! Why bother one’s 
mind about these things now, when everything is on 
the turn for the best.” 

Nevertheless he had set her thinking, and as she 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


73 


turned her head aside and fixed her gaze upon a bank 
of evergreens near by, her eyes gradually lost their 
brilliancy in the moisture that had come into them. 

But you have not asked me who my benefactor 
was, Maysie? rattled on the young man, quite taken 
up with his forthcoming books and the brightening 
prospect ahead. 

'' Mr. Barbelow,’’ replied the young girl, mechanic^ 
ally, and without removing her eyes from the ever- 
greens. Your fellow-lodger in Dedborough street.’’ 

But you have never seen him ! ” exclaimed Digby, 
with great astonishment, '' and I am sure no one could 
have told you about it.” 

I knew it from your description of him. He is a 
man, Digby, who, with all his roughness of manner, 
has a priceless heart within him. A man who thinks 
a great deal more than he utters, and performs more 
than he cares to acknowledge. I knew you would 
never come to any harm, dear, while he was with 
you.” 

Of course you did, my good little fairy,” said the 
young man, tenderly, and imprisoning both her hands 
within his. For I am now led to believe that this 
Barbelow is nothing more than your slave of the lamp, 
called into existence to specially watch over my des- 
tinies. But what a mystery the man is! He turned 
up, you remember, some three weeks ago, suddenly, 
and at night — when we were all about to turn in — and 
insisted on immediate accommodation in the one room 
he has occupied ever since. Where he came from, 
what his business is, and what his ultimate destina- 
tion will be, I could never gather from him. He is 
secrecy itself, seldom speaking to anyone other than 
myself, and going nowhere, except when necessity 
compels him to purchase his own food, and this he 
cooks himself at all sorts of irregular hours in the day 


74 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


and night, in his only room. And yet the old fellow 
appears to have plenty of money, for has he not under- 
taken to finance me until my literary undertakings shall 
recoup us both — and a man must have a banking ac- 
count, you know, to do that. But what is this! Am 
I dreaming, or are those tears? Maysie, my darling, 
you are actually on the point of crying! 

It is nothing, Digby,’' protested the young girl, 
hastily, and turning a reassuring look on him. I was 
only — only — so very happy — that is all ! ’’ 

“ I am a brute, Maysie! exclaimed Digby Ravelyn, 
very much concerned, and drawing her closer to his 
side, '' nothing less than a brute to allow the conversa- 
tion to drift on future possibilities. Time enough to 
speak about such things when they have actually ar- 
rived. I wish you would be so good as to box both 
my ears immediately.’’ 

This proposition set them both off laughing heartily, 
and served for the time to drive all gloomy thoughts 
from her mind. And after that, as the hour for closing 
the park was at hand, and the rain was beginning to 
fall, they arose, and arm in arm, together made their 
way outside the gates. 

Arrived there, and having arranged to meet again at 
her father’s house on the following day week, they 
parted, as lovers always do and always will part — as if 
for instant execution — and went their several ways 
homeward. 

But 'as the young man turned his face toward the 
bridge an untoward incident took place. For he found 
himself so suddenly in the arms of a man, who must 
have been standing close behind him, that before he 
could put out his hand to prevent it, the other toppled 
suddenly over and went sprawling on all fours into the 
roadway. 

A thousand pardons — I am sure! ” exclaimed Dig- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


75 


by, when he had assisted Mr. Alfred Chamfer on to 
his legs and handed him his hat and umbrella. '' I 
hope I have not hurt you in any way? 

‘‘ Oh, dear no — not at all! '' returned the other, with 
an exaggerated assumption of politeness, as he wiped 
the mud from his hands with a handkerchief and 
knocked the dint out of the crown of his hat. ‘‘ Don’t 
mention it, I beg. In fact, I rather like it.” 

I fancy I know your face, sir,” said Digby, with- 
out noticing the sneer, “ and if I am not mistaken, you 
are the person whom we have noticed following us on 
more than one occasion. Will you oblige me at once, 
sir, with your name and address? ” 

‘‘ My name! ” echoed Mr. Alfred Chamfer, drawing 
himself up to his full height — which was inconsiderable 
— and returning young Ravelyn’s angry stare with 
double interest. My name, sir, is Walker — H. Walk- 
er, Esq., of Hookey Manor, in the County of Diddle- 
sex, at your service. I wish you a very good evening, 
sir.” 

And with his small hat cocked raffishly over his 
left eye and his umbrella held aggressively over his 
right shoulder, Mr. Chamfer bowed loosely to our as- 
tonished hero and walked unsteadily away. 

Gazing after him, Digby Ravelyn remarked to him- 
self, savagely: 

'' He was following us, and not on my account^ I’ll 
wager. Mary blushed when I spoke of other admir- 
ers. By heaven! Does the creature dare ?” 


76 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


CHAPTER VTII. 

MR. ALFRED CHAMFER MAKES VIOLENT LOVE ON THE 
SIDEWALK. 

To say that the undertaker's youngest son was in a 
state of intoxication would, from a legal point of 
view, have been distinctly libelous. And yet, to 
say that Mr. Alfred Chamfer was as sober as a judge 
would have been a sorry compliment to our judiciary. 

Had he been personally appealed to on the point, he 
would probably have described his condition as being a 
little bit above par — whatever that might mean, and 
quote that well-known police court formula which sets 
forth that'^' the gentleman knew perfectly well what he 
was about though smelling strongly of spirits." 

Thus, while he was within range of young Ravelyn's 
eye, his deportment, beyond an unequal assumption 
of injured innocence, was well calculated to remove any 
suspicions the colonel’s son might have entertained as 
to his ulterior designs. But once well out of sight 
and hearing, Mr. Chamfer’s movements immediately 
underwent a complete change. His steps became 
longer and more rapid, and finally lapsed into that 
species of loping dog-trot so much affected by subur- 
ban London when speeding to catch the early morn- 
ing train. Then, taking the first turning that opened 
out on his left, he dived suddenly into the park, and the 
next moment was careering unsteadily along a shel- 
tered pathway which tended in a direction calculated to 
bring him out again at a point almost directly oppo- 
site to that from which he had entered. 

Oblivious to the bantering cries of ‘‘Hold ’im!’’ 

Don’t touch it! " “ Come out of that coat! ’’ which 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


11 


occasionally greeted him as he sped breathlessly by, 
Mr. Alfred Chamfer held bravely along until he ar- 
rived outside the southern park gates, gasping after 
his prodigious exertions, and in a state of induced so- 
briety that bordered almost on the preternatural. 

‘‘ My eye, but that was a buster! he gasped, as he 
leaned up against a lamppost for breath, and wiped 
the perspiration from his brow. '' Another minute 
and I'd have been locked in, and have had to climb 
over! You didn't happen to notice a young lady in a 
velvet bonnet and a cape go by just now, did you, mis- 
ter? " he asked of an official who was about to close the 
gates. 

Faith then, I did " 

‘‘ Oh!" 

not," replied the other, who was an Irishman. 

Ah! I thought she couldn't have got here before 
me, allowing for shop windows and other sundry stop- 
pages on the road. I'll give her another five minutes," 
decided Mr. Alfred Chamfer, as he consulted his time- 
piece and found that it had ceased going at an early 
hour that morning. Hello! what's this? Stopped 
again! I wish somebody would invent a self-winding 
eight-day watch to look after itself on occasions. He'd 
make a fortune out of our profession in royalties 
alone! " 

Having by this time in some measure recovered his 
breath, Mr. Alfred Chamfer proceeded to relieve the 
tedium of his vigils by slowly practicing a series of 
elementary steps of the cellar-flap genre on the ex- 
treme edge of the curbstone, keeping up the perform- 
ance with praiseworthy zeal until a sudden fall of rain 
warned him to desist and take hurried shelter under his 
umbrella. 

“ What a mercy to goodness it was I woke up in 
time," he soliloquised, while pacing the sidewalk im- 


78 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


patiently, up and down. ‘‘ Now I know the party Fve 
got to deal with. Now the hated rival stands revealed 
like a hidden snake in the grass — the long-shanked, 
gander-necked horse dragoon — and it won't be my 
fault if I don't clip his wings now and for ever." 

By which it will be noted that Mr. Alfred Chamfer 
was no whit happier than his father, when it ran to 
simile. 

I'd give something to know how she'll carry on 
when she knows all," he went on, thoughtfully. 

There's no telling what a woman may or mayn't do 
when there is more than one man in the case — espe- 
cially when the first one gets the start of a fellow like 
he seems to have done. But I am in for it now, what- 
ever the end of it will be — though sorry, of course, for 
any pain it may cause her when it comes to chucking 
him up for good and all. Oh, my queen-daisy! " cried 
Mr. Chamfer, addressing the lamppost in a sudden ac- 
cess of dramatic passion. “ My heartsease — my ten- 
der little May-blossom, that was born and bred under 
a sunbeam! If you only knew how I long for the day 
to come when I may cull that lily form from its native 
wilds, and here, next to my heart for ever wear it for 
my dear, sweet, fragrant little — buttonhole!" 

Mr. Chamfer was so struck with the beauty of this 
sentiment that he repeated it several times over with 
^ ever-increasing fervor, and then, for the first time in 
his life, seriously thought of taking to poetry for a 
living. 

And yet," continued the young man, more thought- 
fully than heretofore, when it comes to meeting her 
face to face and speaking to her on such a fearful sub- 
ject, with those great big eyes of hers taking quiet 
stock of all that's bad in me, I almost feel like putting 
it off again until some more auspicious occasion — 
and that reminds me." 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


79 


He drew a large handkerchief from the depths of 
his inner breastpocket, and after some little search, 
succeeded in extracting a cork from out of its volumin- 
ous folds. Then, having glanced cautiously around 
him to see that he was not being observed, he pressed 
the handkerchief fervidly to his lips, at the same time 
that he tilled his head and drew the umbrella down 
over it. And so he remained for some seconds in an 
attitude that may or may not have suggested the most 
poignant grief. Certain it was that when he re-ap- 
peared shortly afterward from out of an atmosphere 
that was at least eighty per cent, alcoholic, he appeared 
to have greatly benefited by the apparent succession 
of gurgling sobs that had floated out on the damp night 
air. 

Next to love itself,'’ he remarked, in an under- 
tone, replacing the cork in the handkerchief, and the 
handkerchief within his pocket, give me that for keep- 
ing a man's pluck up when all else fails. I feel as if 1 
could face a whole regiment of angels now, and not 
blush one iota for all my misdeeds. But why tarries 
my lady-love? 

“ Oh, what' she go away for? 

What' she go astray for? 

It's such a blessed time since I did see her! 

Oh! naughty Sarah Jane! 

For to cause me all this pain, 

And " 

At this juncture Mr. Alfred Chamfer became sud- 
denly conscious of the fact that he was in the presence 
of Mary Downs, and that she was, moreover, laughing 
very heartily at his song and the grotesque series of 
steps with which he was accompanying it. 

Don't! don't! — anything but that!" cried the 


8o 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


young man, supplicatingly, and advancing to\vard her 
with a gesture of entreaty. ‘‘ Frown upon me — spurn 
me from you — put me to roast over a slow fire. Do 

what you will, but, oh! Miss Downs — Mary! 

‘‘ Sir!’^ 

‘‘ Miss Downs — do, oh, do not laugh at me! ** 

But really, Mr. Chamfer, I could not help it — be- 
lieve me. It was so very ridiculous.” 

“ There’s a time and a place for all things. Miss 
Downs,” returned the young man, gloomily, as he 
closed his iimbrella and steadied himself on the handle. 

When the trammels of a detested occupation are 
shaken from me, and I stand in my proper sphere — 
on the boards — before a discriminating public, then, 
laughter and even tears will be as the very breath of life 
in my nostrils. But at a moment like this, with my 
heart swelling up to bursting point with mingled feel- 
ings of hope, love — yes, love — fear, and despair, let me 

tell you, Miss Downs — Mary ” 

Mr. Chamfer! ” 

Miss Downs — let me tell you that ridicule 

coming from you, above all others, is simply torture. I 
feel like a Foxe’s martyr — I do, upon my soul! ” 

‘‘ Mr. Chamfer,” faltered the young girl, not a little 
startled at so violent a display of emotion on the part 
of the little man, really, do you know — I am afraid 


‘‘ You’re afraid I’m intoxicated,” broke in the other, 
in tones of bitter recklessness. Out with it! Don’t 
be alarmed on my account. You’re afraid I’m intoxi- 
cated — isn’t that so? Well, perhaps I am. But not 
with the fumes of alcohol. No, indeed! Rather be it 
said with the spirit of love — blind, soul-enthralling, un- 
diluted love. But, alas! of a love that is unrequited. 
Oh, Miss Downs, I am one of the wretchedest of mor- 
tals that ever breathed.” 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


8l 


‘‘ I am jexceedingly sorry to hear it, Mr. Chamfer,'' 
she replied, in accents of genuine sympathy, as the 
little man pulled a new handkerchief out of his hip 
pocket and applied it freely to his eyes. ‘‘ If I could 
only assist you — could intercede for you, perhaps, with 

the object of your regard. I am sure " 

You will! " cried Mr. Chamfer, with great avidity. 

You'll intercede for me with her, will you? You'll 
plead my cause. You'll tell her how I've loved her — 
adored her, year in, year out. Worshiped her from 
afar off as the one bright planet of my wretched woe- 
begone existence. You will tell her how, afraid — 
ashamed — to broach the mornentous question to her 
for fear of a refusal which would mean death itself to 
me, I have watched over her outgoings and incomings 
in the intervals of a hated profession as no thief was 
ever shadowed by a detective. No — no — I don't mean 
that. As no detective was ever hated by a professional 
thief. Oh — oh. Miss Downs — my head! I believe it's 
going, fast." 

‘‘ If you think it necessary for your peace of mind 
that she should know all this, Mr. Chamfer, I am quite 
willing to tell it to her on your behalf." 

‘‘ Tell her more," groaned the love-stricken young 
man. Tell her of a dog's life in a dog's home with a 
running accompaniment of marble chips and coffin 
nails. Tell her of a father and a brother without a 
thought in their souls above ledger tombs and inter- 
ments. Of a sister that drags the heart out of you ev- 
ery five minutes of the day with her tongue; and the 
life out of you at night, with her ‘ Blue Bells of Scot- 
land ' and ‘ Maiden's Prayer.' Picture to her what 
complete freedom from all this would mean to the 
wretched individual in whose breast all the dramatic 
fire of a Kemble or a Roberts, is slowly, yet surely, 
smoldering. Offer her this hand," continued the 


82 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


young man, advancing that limb, '' and this heart, to- 
gether with the love that is seething within it; and tell 
her, with their acceptance, the shroud, the mattock, 
the hearse and the tombstone shall be put aside for- 
ever, and in their place — like a pair of Phenixes from 
the ashes — two champion star duelists shall arise, 
whose appearance will be one of the biggest cautions 
this world has ever seen! 

“ I am no novice, Miss Downs,’’ added Mr. Cham- 
fer, hastily, as the deepening dimples in his fair listen- 
er’s cheeks gave him timely warning of approaching 
mirth, and dropped him suddenly from his cloudland of 
poetic fancy into the unprofitable flats of bathos. Un- 
known to my people at home, I have had lessons from 
an eminent pro. in the Waterloo road, and have already 
on more than one occasion had a first and a last turn 
on at the ‘ Cosmopolitan ’ — with such results as it would 
ill become me to refer to now. Suffice to say, that an 
intelligent press was there — by special invitation — and 
being there, saw and was conquered as completely as 
the audience itself was thunderstruck.” 

‘‘ I hope, Mr. Chamfer, you were well paid for your 
efforts. I am told that fifty pounds a week is not an 
unusual salary on the music-hall stage.” 

‘‘ Well — er — no. Miss Downs. You see, the ques- 
tion of remuneration, that is to say, substantial remun- 
eration, is more or less a question for the future. First 
turns are looked upon more in the light of a special 
honor, and, like most honors, are only to be attained 
at the cost of a little outlay. But don’t let that in- 
fluence her in her decision,” added Mr. Chamfer, 
abruptly, and again taking heat as he reverted to the 
subject of his hopeless love. In less than three 
months time from now I shall have qualified sufficiently 
to leave my present abhorrent trade to those sordid 
earthworms whom nature seems to have specially de- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


83 


signed for this business of turning the deceased into 
money. I shall leave them, you may tell her, to their 
dead; and seek my living out of the mirth-loving 
quick — and that, despite the unsisterlike sneer that it 
would land me among a fast set. But I can not go 
alone. Miss Downs. She — the possessor of all my fu- 
ture happiness — must come along with me and share 
my triumphs. She must take her place, even on the 
very boards, which she will help so much to grace. I 
have had it all planned out in my mind for a consider- 
able time, though circumstances which occurred this 
afternoon have driven me to show my hand a little 
sooner than I had intended.’’ 

‘‘ Can I venture to advise you, Mr. Chamfer, under 
the circumstances?” 

‘‘ Can you venture to advise me to go this minute and 
jump into the river? Just try it. Miss Downs. I should 
take it as a very particular favor if you did.” 

Then give up this idea of leaving a comfortable 
home with a certainty for a something of which, as yet, 
you know nothing. Believe me, Mr. Chamfer, I would 
not advise you unless I knew it was absolutely for your 
good.” 

I can’t — it is impossible. The shoe. Miss Downs, 
don’t pinch you like it does me. It is too late now! ” 

“ But you must undo this resolve — indeed you must. 
Come, I order you to — there! ” 

On condition, then, that she listens favorably to 
all I have just confided to you,” said Mr. Chamfer, ir- 
resolutely. 

Have you never thought of putting your offer to 
her in writing, Mr. Chamfer? Many bashful young 
men must have done that before now; and there is 
surely nothing dishonorable in such a step.” 

I have thought of it,” replied the young man, drop- 
ping his eyes under her direct yet sympathizing gaze 


84 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


— for at the moment she was apparently reading some 
of the “ bad that was in him. “ I have thought of it 
— and done it too. More than once.’' 

And did she not reply to your letters? Surely she 
could not have been so very unwomanly.” 

“ She couldn’t reply to them, even if she had wanted 
to,” faltered Mr. Alfred Chamfer, as his cheeks sud- 
denly blanched, and, with a desperate effort, he lifted 
his eyes and met her inquiring look. They weren’t 
signed — she never knew who sent them.” 

Then he drooped his head again, and from that mo- 
ment appeared to shirk the ordeal of again meeting her 
eyes. 

Then there followed a long, and to Mr. Chamfer, a 
terrible interval of silence. He had never felt so sober 
in his whole life. He almost wished now that he had 
never thrown himself in her way. The heavy rain- 
clouds had rolled suddenly away eastward, and re- 
vealed a cold, bright moon, plunging wildly through 
the meshes of a drifting scud. By its fitful light he 
noted that she had advanced quietly to his side, and 
was looking down upon him with eyes that he instinc- 
tively knew were full of soft reproach. 

Presently he felt a gloved hand rest lightly on his 
shoulder, and at the same time she addressed him in 
tones that were almost motherly in their grave solici- 
tude. 

I am not angry with you. Why should I be? ” she 
said. You were not to blame. If the few occasions 
on which we met were sufficient to inspire you with 
such feelings toward me as you have just professed, I 
would not be a woman if they did not cause me as much 
gratification as they do sorrow for you that you should 
have built any hopes on their being returned. I will 
forgive you — freely — for your Indiscretion in writing 
to me anonymously; but you must cease to do so, or I 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


85 


shall never look upon you as my friend again. You 
must dismiss me from your mind, Mr. Chamfer, and 
from among your numerous friends choose one whose 
affections have not already been claimed. Will you 
forgive me for any pain I have unwittingly caused you, 
and still allow’ me to count you among the many dear 
friends wdiose sympathy has helped so much to ease 
the burden of my troubles.^” 

The appeal was irresistible. Had she flown off at a 
tangent and upbraided him for his presumption, the 
result would probably have been far different. For 
Mr. Chamfer, albeit one of the most harmless and ac- 
commodating of young men it w^as possible to meet 
with, was not without his leaven of irresponsible dev- 
iltry, under such strong provocatives as ridicule or con- 
tempt. 

He stood for some time in an attitude of dire per- 
plexity and then, looking up at her squarely in the face, 
he took her proferred hand and shook it heartily. 

Miss Downs, you have made a man of me,’’ said 
he, with considerable fervor. ‘‘ 1 see it all now, and as 
I ought to have done before — through your eyes. But 
— I — I — (Oh, dear, where’s my handkerchief!) came 
here, I admit, to dictate — perchance to upbraid, and 
now I have remained to — to — to ” 

Oh, please don’t cry, Mr. Chamfer! ” exclaimed his 
companion, as she offered him her handkerchief in 
some alarm. “ Cheer up — look! There is some one 
watching us from the other side. When you reach 
home and sit down calmly to ” 

“ But I can’t — I couldn’t go home,” cried the young 
man, warmly, ‘‘ without showing you some token of 
gratitude — some little mark of my esteem — for the 
generousness with which you have overlooked my vil- 
lainous conduct; and for the better and more manly 
feelings you have thereby implanted within this sor- 


86 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


row-riven bosom. Possibly the information that it is 
my duty to lay before you, may serve to cause you 
pain; but I wouldn't be the friend you would wish me to 
be if I refrained from doing so. Miss Downs, you are 
about to become the victim of a vile plot! " 

I have no fear," remarked the young girl, calmly. 

It is some misapprehension on your part. I have 
never wittingly injured any one to my knowledge, and 
I would rather not hear evil of any person whom I love, 
if there is any uncertainty of the facts being true." 

‘‘ But the facts are true! I heard them myself with 
my own ears, in my own house. Miss Downs, you 
can take my word for it, they're gospel. And if you 
have any affection for one in whose company it was my 
melancholy lot to find you just now — or for him who is 
at this moment waiting your arrival at home " 

“What of him?" she gasped, in sudden fear, and 
seizing the young man by the arm. “ There is surely 
no harm being meditated against him, or — Oh, let me 
know all — Quick! " 

Unconsciously she made a hurried move in the di- 
rection of her home, and Mr. Chamfer, keeping close 
to her side, went on as follows: 

“ They thought I was asleep — the three of them — 
Father, Scaggs, and Thorry; or too fuddled, maybe, 
to understand them when they started talking about 
this matter in the parlor this afternoon. But I wasn't 
asleep, as it happened. I was merely a little indis- 
posed after a hard night's work — that was all — and had 
temporarily taken myself to bed in the room which, 
you must understand, is situated directly above the 
parlor in which they were sitting. It was at the men- 
tion of your name in a loud, angry voice by father that 
a sudden fear took hold of me that there was nothing 
being said for your benefit ; and so I was out of bed and 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 8? 

down on the floor in a jiffy, with my ear tight pressed 
to the boards; and this was what I heard him say: 

He had been that morning to the ‘ Warriors’ Club,’ 
to meet Colonel Ravelyn — the father of one whose 
name my feelings won’t permit me to mention — and the 
colonel had bargained with him for a fixed sum of 
money to use his influence with you and your father to 
break off your marriage ” 

But they can not do it. Our minds are already 
made up— and, besides, father himself has consented.” 

‘‘ Has he! ” groaned the unfortunate young man, at 
this crushing admission. “ I don’t wish to alarm you. 
Miss Downs, but would you kindly inform me which 
lung is likely to become first infected with the germs of 
consumption — I have a sudden darting pain under 
here?” 

The right, I believe,” she answered, abstractedly. 

Then, it’s only wind,” muttered Mr. Chamfer, more 
hopefully, as he pressed his hand to his left side and 
went on. But I haven’t told you the worst yet. 
There was something said about another sum down to 
you as a recompense for the loss, should you make up 
your mind to waive your claim — yes, claim (that’s what 
father said) to the colonel’s son.” 

She stopped and bent upon him a look of puzzled in- 
quiry, as though the meanness of the proposition was 
beyond her comprehension. 

‘‘ And if that wasn’t powerful enough to stop the 
marriage,” continued Mr. Chamfer, with painful can- 
dor, father was to tell you that he — the colonel — 
wouldf cut his son off from all the property he was at 
present heir to, and send him into the world a pauper. 

“And on the top of all that,” pursued the young 
man, with anecdotal frankness, as he mistook her si- 
lence for passive indifference, “ and failing all else, he 
was to put the screw on as regards the rent that’s in 


88 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


arrears, and distrain. That was to be father's trump 
card. I heard him say he'd serve the notice to-mor- 
row, in case you didn't come to terms " 

He stopped suddenly, shocked beyond measure at 
the fixed expression of tearless agony that he now per- 
ceived in her eyes, and that was further revealed by the 
tumultous heaving of her bosom. 

“My poor father!" was all she could say. “My 
poor, helpless father! They couldn't be so cruel! " 

“Couldn't they!" cried Mr. Chamfer, as he found 
his tongue and blazed up in chivalrous wrath. 
“ Couldn't they just! You don't know the governor as 
I do. But don't be alarmed. You leave it all to me. 
You have got a lasting friend in Alfred Chamfer — a se- 
cret friend who’ll keep a strict eye on the enemy and 
floor him when he is least expecting it. Don’t take on 
so, Miss Downs. I'll right you, never you fear, though 
I could cut my tongue out for the sorrow I have 
brought into your heart." 

“ I'll go home to father," said she, gently, and as 
one in a dream. He seemed to be the only person up- 
permost in her mind, to the exclusion of aught else. 
“ He has not been so well of late, and this news, com- 
ing, as it does, so unexpectedly, will throw him back 
again — God help him ! " 

“ But you're surely never going to tell him it now? " 
said Mr. Chamfer, aghast. “ You will leave it to him 
to find it out when he gets the notice." 

“ I may yet succeed in stopping it," she said, more 
to herself than to her companion. “ I will see Mr. 
Chamfer — your father — to-morrow morning. I had 
already made up my mind to do so to-day. But I 
will not compromise you in any way, nor mention this 
to anybody — not even to father. I will not add to his 
troubles by appearing to know more than what he has 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 89 

already told me, and — Oh, father — I must go to him — 
father! ” 

“ But you will still be to me as a friend, Miss 
Downs? Leave me at least that one grain of comfort 
in my misery. Promise me only that.'’ 

“ I promise it. May you never have a worse enemy 
in this world than Mary Downs! " 

'' And yourself never a better friend than Alfred 
Chamfer — I swear it! " 

He pressed her handkerchief fervently to his lips as 
she turned and left him; and then transferring it to his 
many-pocketed coat, he stood watching her figure 
until it rounded the head of the Park road and disap- 
peared from view. 

Never no more! " he muttered solemnly, taking the 
handkerchief with the cork in it from his breast pocket, 
and throwing it over the railings into the park, where, 
strange to say, it fell with a heavy thud. '' Never no 
more! — Never no more! " With which asseveration he 
pulled himself together and went slowly and sorrow- 
fully homeward. 


90 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


CHAPTER IX. 

JEALOUS OF KIS NEW LOVE, TEMPTED BY THE OLD. 

Scarcely had the young lady and her unhappy suitor 
quitted the scene of their late confidences when a 
man, who had been standing in the shadow of the op- 
posite wall, immediately crossed the roadway, and with 
clenched hands and a livid face took up a position on 
the very spot they had just vacated. 

The clouds had again foregathered, and with a sud- 
den change of wind were now emptying their con- 
tents with a steadiness of purpose that speedily left the 
newcomer sole possessor of the street. And as he stood 
there, by the flickering gas lamp, with the rain beating 
down upon his face and running in streams from his 
hat and clothes, it was easy enough to perceive that his 
condition of mind was in thorough accord with the 
raging elements. 

‘'And for this I have slaved and starved!’’ sighed 
Digby Ravelyn, who had overheard too much of this 
conversation, and yet too little; for, driven by jealousy, 
he had warily played the eavesdropper and been pun- 
ished for it. “ No wonder she blushed when I spoke 
of other suitors. She remembered this fellow who fol- 
lowed us, and to whom she was to give meeting after 
she had tired of my company. For this I have thrown 
away name, position, fortune, and now all happiness 
and peace of mind along with them. Just God! can 
such studied deceit mate itself to one so outwardly pure 
and innocent of thought! Oh, I could have staked 
my life on her truth — ^wretched dupe and driveling 
fool that I have been! 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


91 


And yet was I forewarned; I, the thoroughgoing 
out-and-out man of the world, who in my blind infat- 
uation threw my father's admonition in his face and 
scorned his better experience. And now? " 

He ground his teeth in the very impotence of his 
rage, and then in a fit of uncontrollable passion, flung 
his arms above his head and stormed aloud. 

Suddenly, as the form of his insignificant little rival 
floated in upon his distracted thoughts, he started off 
at a headlong pace, with some ill-defined idea of catch- 
ing him up and beating out his brains in the open street. 
As suddenly again he came to a standstill; the more 
consolatory plan of overtaking her and upbraiding her 
for her foul treachery having taken its place in his dis- 
ordered mind. Between the two courses he paused 
irresolutely for a second or two, and then, leaning up 
against the park railings in the pitiless weather, he gave 
further vent to his outraged feelings in a torrent of 
fierce invective. 

‘‘ And for such a cur as this I am to stand aside! — 
this ill-dressed little cad, whom I mistook at first sight 
for some paid spy of my father's to watch over my 
movements in London! And yet I distinctly saw her 
take him by the hand in apparent encouragement of 
his beastly suit; and then finally give him her hand- 
kerchief as a token of its acceptance. Oh, saints and 
devils! am I awake, or is this insanity pure and sim- 
ple? Why, compared with her, poor Violet, with all 
her mannishness, and yet unselfish love for wretched 
me, was truth and honor personified. But we shall 
see. I have at least spared myself the humiliation of 
letting them both triumph over my discomfiture. I 
thank God I was sufficiently under control to keep 
from laying violent hands on a creature — a mannikin — 
who would doubtless have had all her sympathies to 
console him for the chastisement. Even now, she 


92 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


shall not know how I have lowered myself to watch her 
movements — I will leave that to her conscience, if she 
has one. How strange I should never until to-night 
have connected his presence with the possibility even, 
of her treachery toward myself. 

‘‘ And oh, how I loved her! — and do love her, even 
now. But I must leave town at once — I will see Bar- 
below! — I will write to her to-night! — No, I won't! 
Oh, Maysie! Maysie! was this worthy of you? Was it 
deserved on my part? What a fearful awakening from 
so prolonged and happy a dream ! " 

Soaked to the skin with the driving rain, and shiv- 
ering with cold and nervous excitement, he felt that 
some action was demanded of him if he wished to pre- 
serve his mind from complete collapse. So, pulling 
himself together with a powerful effort of will, he once 
more shaped his course homeward, and neither looked 
to the right nor the left, until he arrived at his lodgings, 
dripping from all points, and in a condition of mind 
that was in the last degree dangerous. 

In the passage at the foot of the staircase stood 
Mrs. Busby, to all appearance in angry waiting; her 
sallow face flushed to an abnormal shade, and bearing a 
general expression of bottled-up wrath that spoke elo- 
quently of a week's warning in store. 

Is Mr. Barbelow in? " he queried, impatiently, and 
scarcely recognizing her presence. 

'' No, he ain't," she replied, with great acerbity. ** If 
he was, he wouldn't have stood by and seen a respect- 
able female insulted in the way I have been! He ain't 
in — ^worse luck — or he'd have put some one else out 
into the street as soon as looked at her; and for all she's 
in man's clothing! " 

Mrs. Busby's voice had gradually swelled to a stri- 
dent fortissimo for the special delectation, apparently, 
of some other person on the floor above. And she was 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


93 


proceeding to further enlarge upon the subject of her 
wrongs, when, noticing for the first time his wretched 
condition and the set look of fierce purpose in his eyes, 
she appeared to think better of the venture, and, with 
an unnecessarily loud “ There's a young woman a- 
waitin' for you upstairs," she bounced into her little 
shop-parlor and forthwith relieved her mind by set- 
ting down the intended “ notice " on paper in the pre- 
scribed legal formula. 

A young woman waiting for me ! " 

He paused for a second to collect, his scattered 
thoughts. Surely she could not have preceded him 
here. She wouldn't have had time, even if she had 
known all, and had dared to anticipate his wrath by a 
shameless confession and an appeal to his generosity 
for forgiveness. 

He was hesitating whether to proceed upstairs or to 
immediately leave the house, when a voice through 
the open door of the anteroom hailed him with : 

‘‘ Come along, Digby! Never mind the old lady — 
it's only me — ^Violet." 

The next moment he was standing on the threshold of 
the room and eyeing with anything but favor the slim- 
built figure of a young lady in tailor-made tweeds, who, 
with a cigarette in full light, was lolling back in his 
spare chair by the fireside, and observing him through 
a perfumed cloud with an expression of amused appre- 
hension. 

“ It's awfully bad form on my part, I know," she 
said, springing out of her seat and tripping up to him 
with extended hand. But I could not leave town 
without seeing you once more, dear boy, — ^just for old 
times' sake. And — oh, Digby! how dreadfully dis- 
sipated you’re looking — you nasty wet thing. Why, 
you are literally swimming in water! Do come up to 


94 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


the fire. See! I have actually been and lit it with my 
own fair fingers.’’ 

She held up her little jeweled hands and laughed 
merrily in his face. 

‘‘ What fun! ” she went on, when he had given her 
his hand somewhat ungraciously and moved toward 
the fire. ‘‘ Do you know, I was beginning to feel quite 
the little wifey, sitting here all alone in waiting for my 
belated hubby — with your irate landlady as mother- 
in-law in the background. Oh, you won’t sit down? 
Very well then, I shall.” 

She seated herself in the chair and watched him 
stealthily from under her eyelashes, while he leaned 
against the mantelpiece, with his hand to his brow and 
his eyes fixed on the blazing coal. 

And what a pretty little picture she presented, with 
her delicately piquant features, her short curled hair 
of a light gold color; the lithe, almost serpentine little 
figure, so trimly appareled, and yet so perfectly in 
keeping with the standup collar, the shirt front, and a 
tie that bore a strong family resemblance to the soiled 
one that graced his own neck. If anything could have 
marred so charming a tout ensemble it would probably 
have been the abnormal squareness of the chin; the 
drawndown corners of a cruel-looking little mouth, and 
eyes as utterly devoid of all sympathy as those of the 
elder Mr. Chamfer himself. 

Well, sir! ” she exclaimed, tartly, when from study- 
ing the embers he seemed about to lose all sense of her 
presence. Have you nothing to say to me? ” 

‘‘ How came you to find my address? ” 

- Through my most devoted — the major! ” 

‘‘ Hang Wolferton! ” 

‘‘ With all my heart — thanks. Anything else? ” 

‘‘ I think you have been very indiscreet, to say the 
least,” he replied, coldly. 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


95 


‘‘ Oh, come, come. Don't preach, Digby. Leave 
that to the colonel. Surely after we have known one 
another all these years there should be no necessity for 
ceremony between us." 

‘‘ Quite so. Miss Troope — ^Violet, I mean — but then 
you must remember we are not now at Dumbton. At 
the present moment I have got a Mrs. Busby (my land- 
lady) to reckon with, and " 

‘‘ Oh, the vulgar old thing who opened the door to 
me, and then wouldn't let me come up because she 
didn’t think it was proper! Ha! ha! ha! you should 
have seen me send her packing, Digby, and then heard 
her language when I did come up. You didn't teach 
me ‘ Association ' rules for nothing, dear boy." 

He turned impatiently away, and with something 
very like disgust in the curve of his lip. She noted 
the movement and the expression, and hastened to 
qualify them. 

Don't be cross with me, Digby," she said, in gen- 
tler tones, as she arose and threw aside her cigarette. 
‘‘ I did it, as I thought, for the best. It may have been 
very unwomanly, and all that sort of thing, you know, 
but I knew you must be very hard up, perhaps in actual 
want, and I couldn't resist the opportunity of calling 
to see if you needed help. Do you hate me so very 
much for this? " 

“ Violet, forgive me," he replied, impulsively, and 
taking her hand. To me you will ever be the gener- 
ous-hearted girl of earlier days; but things have al- 
tered — sadly altered — since then.” 

‘‘Sadly! But why sadly? Surely are you not one 
of the happiest of happy mortals in the fellowship of 
your kindred soul. I think those were your own words 
to the colonel. Your parting words." 

“ Excuse me. Miss Troope, if I venture to suggest 


96 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


that the question of my happiness is one entirely af- 
fecting myself/’ 

“ Oh, very well, sir! If you want to quarrel about 
it, I don’t. And yet there was a time, Digby, when 
my concern in your joys and sorrows would not have 
met with so cruel a rebuff. Probably you have for- 
gotten that there ever was such a time. I haven’t — 
woe’s the day! ” 

He turned quickly and met her eyes, and the ex- 
pression within them, together with her flushed cheeks 
and the quivering little lips (so like unto a spoiled 
child on the verge of tears), appealed so irresistibly 
to his innate vanity, that, were it not for the mute ap- 
peal from that other face in its framing on the table, 
we are not sure but that he would have taken her 
in his arms and thereby brought this tale to a prema- 
ture conclusion. 

'' You must not carry your thoughts back to those 
days,” he said, softly, and scowling the while at the 
replica of his faithless absent one. ‘‘ Our life at Dumb- 
ton — as it ever is among our set — was, more or less, an 
artificial one. W e have both lived, and learned a deal 
since then.” 

And yet you were — were — fond of me then, Digby 
— at least, you flattered me into believing that you 
were! ” 

“Did I?” he returned, absent-mindedly, and ad- 
dressing himself to the photograph; “ but, thank Pleav- 
en, that’s all over now.” 

“ Don’t turn your nose up at me, sir! ” she flashed 
forth, indignantly, at the fancied insult. “ How dare 
you! I am not dirt, bad as I may be in your estima- 
tion. If I am fast — restless — unwomanly, and smoke 
and play billiards — and whistle, who was the cause of 
it? YoUy sir — there! But for you I might have been 
quiet and modest and goody-goody and soft, like she 


DIGBY BAVELYN. 


97 


is; and then perhaps you would have respected me for 
my — my — virtues. Oh — Oh, Digby, how I execrate 
you! ’’ 

My dear girl — Violet — pardon me,’’ he cried, re- 
calling himself with a start. I was really not allud- 
ing to you.” 

Not alluding to me! Then who ” she paused, 

noted the bent of his looks, and, with feminine intui- 
tiveness, took in the whole situation at a glance. 

'' I am leaving town with your father for Dumbton 
to-morrow night,” she said, with all the tenderness of 
manner she was able to assume at so short a notice; 

and I may never — never — see you again, Digby. 
That is, unless you choose to listen to my humble ap- 
peal on your father’s behalf and consent to return with 
us. Oh, rouse yourself from this terrible state of in- 
fatuation into which you have fallen. Think of your 
family, of yourself and your prospects, and the slur this 
separation from society will cast upon a time-honored 
name. Digby, I am ashamed of you — at least I really 
shall be, if you don’t bestir yourself and make amends. 
Look at this room, with its squalid appointments, and 
compare it v/ith your little snuggery at Dumbton. 
Contrast the vulgar espionage of a Mrs. Busby with the 
moneyed freedom of a man-about-town, and then tell 
me what equivalent you can possibly expect to find for 
these in a life of sordid poverty with one who may, 
after all, set but little value on your sacrifices. I know 
the heart of woman far better than you ever will, my 
poor Digby, and I dread the terrible awakening that is 
in store for you. Reflect, before it is too late. Has it 
never occurred to you that this marriage may mean a 
great deal more than the loss of your father’s regard? 
A moment’s reflection would surely have convinced 
you that in the height of his anger he might carry out 
the threat so often made within my hearing, and bar 


98 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


the Dumbton estates to you at the death of your broth- 
er. Have you never thought of all this? '' 

‘‘ I have/’ he replied, mechanically. '' But I never 
thought he would go quite so far as that. I see and 
fear the possibility of it now — never so much as now.” 

Poor little framed face on the table. Smile you 
never so sweetly. Let those soft, pleading eyes ap- 
peal their utmost to his better nature, and it will avail 
your living prototype but little now. For a formid- 
able rival is at his elbow, and a raging hell of jealousy 
is in his heart. 

Come back with me to-night — now, Digby. Think 
of your father and his affection for me, and how it 
would please me if a reconciliation were brought about 
through my mediation. You must not pass another 
night in this dreadful room. You called me your 
queen once, Digby — the day we carved our names on 
the beech tree. Let me exert my prerogative now, and 
order you to pack up your things, pay Mrs. Busby in 
advance — see, here is the money — and leave the house 
this very evening.” 

She appeared to be terribly in earnest. In all their 
intercourse he had never known this ultra-blase little 
lady to be so eloquent of persuasion, or so irresistibly 
charming of manner as she seemed to him at that mo- 
ment, with her flashing eyes and imperious gestures. 
Again the fate of our story hung tremblingly in the 
balance; and yet again his eyes fell upon the portrait 
on the table, now regarding him, seemingly, with eyes 
so full of pained suspense, and he controlled himself 
sufficiently to turn away and address his fair pleader 
through the flickering embers. 

I may probably write to my father, Violet, I will 
promise you that. But it would be impossible for me 
to leave here to-night, even if I wished to do so. There 
is one,” he continued, referring to Mr. Barbelow, “ who 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


99 


has been more than a friend to me in my adversities, 
and whom I could not now leave so ungraciously with- 
out a word of explanation or thanks.” 

'' I must say I don’t admire your taste, Digby.” 
Probably you don’t. You are not the first who 
has told me so.” 

“ Such hair! ” she sniffed, with a glance of supreme 
disdain at the portrait of Mary Dowms. 

I grant you it’s a bit tousled, but that, I find, gen- 
erally goes with a good heart.” 

And eyes! ” she went on, in angry scorn, and still 
alluding to the unlucky portrait. I am sure they 
squint.” 

‘‘ I am certain they do,” he replied, quietly, and still 
referring to the absent Barbelow. 

Oh, Digby, Digby! I never could have believed 
that you would have sunk to this! ” 

‘‘ No more did I,” he returned, with provoking can- 
dor, but misery, I find, will force one to consort 
with the strangest of lodgers; though I can’t say that 
my friend has any serious vice to find fault with, ex- 
cept, perhaps, the habit of smoking a very infamous 
mixture of tobacco.” 

'' Do you mean, sir, to tell me that she actually 
smokes — a pipe? ” 

Who smokes a pipe? ” 

Why, your friend.” 

And why shouldn’t he? ” 

‘‘Why shouldn’t who?” 

“ My fellow lodger, Barbelow, of course — whom did 
you think I meant? ” 

“ Oh, nobody in particular,” she replied, in some 
confusion. “ You forget I never saw this Mr. Bar- 
below% your fellow-lodger. Then you leave here as 
soon as you have said good-by to him — won’t you, 
Digby?” 


100 


DIGBY RAVELYN; 


Probably I may/' he replied, evasively. But my 
father, Violet — is he aware that you are calling 
here?" 

He is not, or you might be certain that he would 
have vetoed it." 

‘‘ H’m! Leave me to turn it over in my mind," he 
said, rousing himself and confronting her with a look 
of pained perplexity that brooked no further impor- 
tuning. ‘‘ I will consult Barbelow immediately on his 
arrival, and I will promise you that, in the event of any 
change of plans, my father shall hear from me. Good- 
night; I will see you to the door." 

'' Good-night," she replied, half tearfully. ‘‘ I shall 
certainly expect to see you to-morrow, Digby. We are 
stopping, as usual, at the Grosvenor." 

‘‘ One moment. Is Mr. Vinning still at Dumbton? " 
He is. I wish he was anywhere else. I abso- 
lutely abominate that man, Digby. He seems to get 
more control over the colonel every day — these can- 
did hypocrites always do." 

‘‘ And Algernon — my brother? " 

‘‘ Will not arrive until the end of the month. We 
are having a small house party then, with Major Wol- 
ferton (the odious, sleepy brute — you can't imagine 
how I detest the creature, Digby!) and a lot of other 
nonentities. But why go into particulars, when you 
will be there yourself to receive them. Oh, what hor- 
rid squeaky stairs! I am sure you will be glad to turn 
your back on 'em for the last time. Now, don't forget 
to-morrow, there's a good boy. Tra-la-la! Good- 
night." 

And standing bareheaded at the street door, Digby 
Ravelyn saw her hail a passing cab, jump into it, and 
drive rapidly away. 

With his return to the anteroom and seclusion, the 
events of the last few hours speedily monopolized what 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


lOI 


little attention he had been able to bestow upon his 
volatile companion; and in contrasting the latter (her 
obvious faults of manner notwithstanding) with the 
woman who, under a mask of simple-minded inno- 
cence, had been beguiling him for Heaven knows how 
long, he arose in a perfect frenzy of passion from the 
chair into which he had thrown himself to brood, and 
paced the room up and down with a recklessness of 
movement that threatened the appointments with in- 
stant demolition. 

Presently he came to a full stop at the table, drew 
the chair up to it, and seizing pen and paper, composed 
himself to write. 

While doing so his eyes again fell upon the unhappy 
portrait, and he stayed his pen to seize and hurl it 
into the fireplace. 

It slipped from his fingers in the attempt and fell 
upon the floor with a loud clatter. 

In a second he was down on his knees, inspecting 
the frame with the deepest concern, and wiping the 
dust from those ever-smiling eyes and dimpled fea- 
tures. 

'' It’s the only one I possess of her,” he muttered, 
when he had replaced her in her old position; “ and I’ll 
keep it, if only to remind me how utterly unworthy she 
is of the slightest consideration.” 

“ Since I parted from you this evening,” 
he scrawled, savagely, 

“my eyes have been opened. When, and in what manner I 
will leave to your conscience to suggest. Let me only say 
this, that within the last hour I have been suddenly awakened 
to the true nature of my Paradise and its Peri, and that we 
must never meet again. Farewell ! Digby Ravelyn.” 

With his eyes turned aside — as well they might be — 
he hastily sealed the envelope, and then, snatching up 
his hat, dashed off with the missive to the nearest 


102 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


letterbox and posted it. Yet scarcely had he re-en- 
tered the room and met her accusing gaze, than a re- 
vulsion of feeling came upon him, and he would have 
given worlds to have recalled the letter. Indeed, he 
was making for the door again with some wild notion 
in his head of fishing it out of its iron prison when the 
impassioned figure of the undertaker’s son usurped her 
place in his mind, and he returned instead to steel him- 
self to the utmost to justify his action. 

“ If she is innocent,” he reasoned, she will answer 
my note, or call upon me for some explanation. If she 
is guilty — of which there can be no reasonable doubt — 
I shall never hear from her again. But I shall wait — a 
week — until the day following that on which I have ap- 
pointed lo meet her at her father’s house; and then, it 
I do not see her or hear from her, I shall — Hullo! 
what’s this? ” 

In withdrawing his hand from his coat pocket he 
had brought with it a sheet of paper, clean, crisp, and 
metallic. A ten-pound Bank of England note! 

“ She must have put it there as she stood beside me 
at the fireplace,” he mused, while his eyes moistened 
suddenly with emotion. Poor kind-hearted Violet! 
so then, this was your doing. However, it shall not be 
touched; I will return it to her to-morrow with a note. 
I will — oh, why doesn’t Barbelow return! Why have 
I no one to appeal to for advice in this awful agony of 
mind! Mother! Can she see me now? Could she help 
me if I prayed to her? ” 

He threw himself on his knees at the bedside — this 
big booby — just as he had done when, as a child, she 
had folded his hands and prompted the very prayer 
that now struggled to his lips; and then, burying his 
face in the counterpane, sobbed, like the great weak- 
spirited ninny that he was. 

Just an hour later the door turned softly on its 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 1 03 

hinges and Mr. Barbelow, in his hat and overcoat, 
stood dripping within its gloomy framing. 

He paused for an instant in surprise at seeing no 
one within. Then, as he noticed the sleeping figure 
(still on its knees by the bedside) with the head turned 
over, and a look of quiet repose on its worn features, 
he softly approached the fireplace on tiptoe, heaped 
on the contents of the coal-scuttle with a wondrous 
lack of clatter, turned down the lamp, drew the counter- 
pane over his young friend’s shoulders, and then, as 
silently, withdrew. 


CHAPTER X. 

MR. FREDERICK HOLDER MAKES HIMSELF A LOAN- 
OFFICE. 

‘‘ William,” inquired Mr. Frederick Holder, of his 
very particular friend Mr. Downs, one evening shortly 
after the occurrences of the preceding chapter. It’s 
gettin’ on to’ards a week now since you had that there 
blue paper from the party as lost his spectercles and 
arst you to read it all through for him — ain’t it? ” 

A week come to-morrow exactly, Fred,” assented 
his friend, in much the same tone of voice as that in 
which the query had been propounded — which, to say 
the least, was the reverse of cheerful. Not that there 
was any necessity for using such underhanded methods 
in serving a notice of distraint on a man whose word, 
Fred, ought to have been a sufficient guaranty, even 
if his credit had all gone.” 

And perwidin’ the money ain’t forthcomin’ by the 
end of a month, then that there blue paper will begin 
to operate. Am I right or am I wrong, William? ” 


104 


DIGBY IGWELYN. 


Failing payment, it’s bound to, Fred. There’s 
nothing else on earth to prevent it.” 

And when it’s been and operated,” continued Mr. 
Holder, as if he were alluding to some medicinal 
powder, there won’t be nothing left under this roof 
that a cat might crawl underneath, let alone a human 
bein’. Am I tellin’ you a lie, William, or am I not? ” 
Don’t keep asking me, Fred,” replied the carpen- 
ter and joiner, a little testily. ‘‘ You’ve read the pa- 
per yourself.” 

‘‘ And she will know of it then for the first time — 
won’t she? ” persisted Mr. Holder, coloring violently. 

“ She will — God bless her poor little heart! ” 

Amen to that, William; and all His help to pull her 
through with it — arterwards. And so, all considered, 
there’s nothing to be done — ain’t there?” 

Nothing, Fred — absolutely, except to put our trust 
in Him, as I have done all along, and keep up a brave 
face in front of her. But why do you keep on ask- 
ing? ” 

'' Why do I keep on a-askin’? ” echoed Mr. Holder, 
with a tremendous outburst of suppressed emotion, and 
rising and seating himself a number of times, as was 
his wont when laboring under excitement. ‘‘ Why do 
I keep on a-askin’ 1 Because, bein’ short-necked, if so 
be I didn’t, William, there’s that there a-chokin’ and 
a-bilin’ down here inside of me as ’ud throw me into a 
apo’lectic fit every twenty minutes of the day. Why do 
I keep on a-askin’ 1 Because it’s a case of ask or bu’st 
— that’s why! ” 

Despite the extreme gravity of the situation, as af- 
fecting Mr. Downs personally, that individual would 
seem at first sight to be the last one in the world to 
whom the impending order had any special reference. 

‘‘ You’ll believe me, Fred,” observed the joiner, with 
kindly gravity, as the former resumed his seat and loos- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


105 

ened his neckerchief. '' If, as a man speaking to a 
man, and not allowing one's natural feelings to intrude 
on a business that mostly concerns those directly af- 
fected — I say you'll believe me if I express to you the 
great consolation your sympathy with me and mine has 
been to my mind all throughout this business; and I 
thank you kindly for it — kindly, and from the bottom of 
my heart." 

'' That's right enough, W^illiam," replied the other, 
blushing furiously at the directness of the compliment, 
and fidgeting nervously on the edge of his chair. But 
where there's more than one concerned in it — one 
that's got no voice nor say in it, and don't know what 
the end of it has got to be until that there paper be- 
comes law. And one, William, if you'll excuse my 
sayiiT of it, that suffers as it is in heart and soul and 
body, without daring to show the least sign for fear of 
addin' to a father's sorrow. Then that party bein’ a 
woman, and a daughter, with a natural love for a home 
that, \vhen it goes, will take half her life along with it 
— that party, I say, has got to be considered, William. 
Speaking as a man to a man, you’re bound to make 
some allowance for that." 

‘‘ Don’t mistake me, Fred," returned the carpenter 
and joiner, hurriedly, as the other appeared on the point 
of again giving way to his feelings. I had that part 
of it in my mind all along, as God knows I have had it 
day and night these six months. It was not my fault 
that the accident happened that cut off the rent money 
and drove my poor girl out to work. That wasn't my 
fault so much as the suing of Pendergraft for damages 
and losing what little money I had laid by in the bank 


‘‘ And all chance of their takin’ you on again when 
you do come out," added Mr. Holder, ruefully. But 
you would go to them lawyers, William, in spite of the 


io6 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


advice I gave you; and here's the consequences! How- 
somever I'm not a-blamin' of you, mate; nor I don't 
wish to undervalue your feelin's as a father. I was a 
father myself once," continued Mr. Holder, his eyes 
filling, and reaching into his trousers pocket for his 
handkerchief. “ Of as sweet a little boy as ever you 
might wish to lay your eyes on. But " 

'' So you've told me, Fred," interrupted Mr. 

Downs, a little uneasily. 

'' He swallered a squeaker by accident — wrong 

end up'ards — and squawked hisself to death in less 
than a minute." 

When he had allowed his friend ample time to re- 
cover from the effects of this very painful family remi- 
niscence, Mr. Downs, who, in the interval had cloaked 
his friend's private sorrow by mending the fire, now 
took it upon himself to again revert to his own af- 
fairs. 

'' In regard to what you were saying just now about 
Mary and her ignorance of the state of things respect- 
ing the notice. You forget that was the outcome of 
my taking your advice, Fred, instead of confiding in 
her and going to the lawyers, as I had a mind to at the 
time." 

When you come to me, William, that morning the 
party served you, and, sez you, Fred, there's the paper 
I've been expecting this last three months. I ask you 
as a friend — knowin' all the circumstances of the case, 
and the probable consequence the knowledge of this 
will be to her — is she to know of it, or is she not? Are 
you follerin' of me, William?" 

'' Go on, Fred," said Mr. Downs. 

When you put that deliberate to me," continued 
Mr. Holder, with increasing excitement, and getting in 
and out of his chair thrice in the sentence, '' what did I 
say in response to it? William, I says, don't, if you 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


107 


value her life worth all you've ever said you did — 
don't you so much as whisper what's happened dur- 
in' her absence, and whatever the consequences may 
be of your havin' taken my advice in doing so, I'm 
willin' to stand to it. But with this one — one " 

‘‘ — —Proviso?" suggested Mr. Downs. 

‘‘ Perhaps it ^vas," returned the other, dubiously, 
“ though I might have said, on this one conditioUy that 
having taken my advice at the start, you'd foller it 
right up to the finish. You can't go back on that now, 
William. Is that the truth as I've stated it, or am I 
one of the " 

I don't dispute it, Fred. Not for a single mo- 
ment — why should I ? " 

Because, William," said Mr. Holder, as his eyes 
again began to moisten and his features to pucker, 
you never carried out your part of the contract, Will- 
iam." 

Mr. Downs paid no heed. 

‘‘ The perviso wasn't follered out, William. When 
the money ran dry and there was nothing cornin' in 
beyond what she earned at the dressmakin', and when 
that there — -oily marmoseet " (Mr. Holder was alluding 
to Mr. Chamfer) began to threaten you over the 
rent, I says to you, on account of the perviso: ‘ William, 
there's sech a thing as a loan office ' " 

‘‘ I know you did," the joiner broke in, hastily, and 
I told you at the time that without security good 
enough for a bank those offices wouldn't look at me." 

There's such a thing as a loan office," reiterated 
Mr. Holder, ignoring the interruption. And if my 
word and bond for fifty pounds in the Postoffice Sav- 
in's — and my being in constant work, wasn't good 
enough security for any loan office, why, then I'd start 
one myself. But you wouldn't make the application 
William." 


Io8 DIGBY RAVELYN. 

‘‘ Simply because, in the event of my death through 
this accident or some other unforeseen circumstance, 
you would have lost all you possessed in the world/’ 

“ Failin’ that,” went on Mr. Holder, I became a 
loan office myself, and offered to loan you the fifty 
pounds for eight months at five per cent, interest, with 
a special perviso again, that if so be I wasn’t paid with- 
in that time I’d sell up every stick and stiver you had 
in the house. But you wouldn’t take it on, William.” 

Of course not — and for the same reason I have just 
given.” 

‘‘ Of course you wouldn’t,” growled Mr. Holder, 
finally seating himself in his chair with the air of one 
who had successfully vindicated a nice point of honor. 
‘‘ And there the matter came to an end so far as I was 
concerned, William. Now so far as I can see, you 
haven’t a soul to turn to if them brokers was to walk 
in to-morrow. Not one on earth, William — unless p’r- 
haps its your brother. I had forgotten him. ” 

My brother! ” 

‘‘ Him that went to the Sangwidge Islands.” 

'' Buenos Ayres,” corrected the carpenter and joiner, 

Buenos Ayres, the capital of the Argentine Republic. 
I don’t suppose brother George would raise a finger to- 
ward helping me now, even if he knew how we were sit- 
uated. He was an unforgiving man, Fred; and that lit- 
tle affair of the heart with her that’s dead and gone 
would cling to him as long as he lived. If I could 
only get about sufficient to see Mr. Chamfer himself, 
I believe I could manage to stave this off; but at times 
a feeling of weakness comes over me suddenly and 
makes me run to the chair for support before I should 
fall.” 

'' Wertigo,” explained Mr. FI older, in the manner of 
one who speaks from personal experience. Since I 
fell off the roof of the Railway Hotel, and they japanned 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


109 

the top of my head with a silver plate, I gets the same 
feeling myself at times. I expec' we’ll both grow out 
of it in time, William — Hark! was that her? I must 
be going.” 

“ Don’t go, Fred,” entreated the carpenter and join- 
er, struggling feebly to his legs, and leaning against 
the mantelpiece for support. '' It’s only Mary. Don’t 
leave me just now.” 

‘‘ I can’t stop, William. I can’t a-bear to look at 
her in the face — so innocent and happy as she always 
is — with the thoughts that all them little knicker- 
knacks of hers a-hangin’ up around us have got to go. 
Why, man, you’re beginnin’ to give away. William! 
Mate! For God’s sake hold up before she comes in! ” 

Mr. Downs had dropped back into his seat, and with 
his head bowed on his breast, sat staring straight be- 
fore him, the living personification of abject, hopeless 
misery. 

‘‘ Frederick,” he muttered, hoarsely, his lips quiv- 
ering for the first time under his pent-up emotion. 

They wouldn’t all go if the rent was forthcoming. 
Though it wouldn’t save the home, the notice to quit 
would hold good — wouldn’t it, Fred?” 

‘‘ Never mind about that, William, so long as I can 
find a tempo’ry place to put ’em in. Never you trouble 
about that. You’re a-comin’ around, William, I can 
see it in your eyes. Fifty pounds for eight months at 
five per cent, interest. Quick! — here, she’s a-comin’. 
Is it a bargain, or is it not? ” 

It is, Fred, and may God bless you for it! ” 


no 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


CHAPTER XL 

THE NEW LIFE, FATHER, THE NEW LIFE! ” 

A second had barely elapsed after her father and his 
guest had in some measure regained their composure 
when Mary Downs came in, humming a song as was 
her wont, and with a basket full of comestibles pur- 
chased on her way home from work. 

She was evidently struck with the improved appear- 
ance in her father, who had conjured up a feeble smile 
into his pain-drawn features as he turned his eyes, 
with a world of affection in them, toward her; and she 
rightly attributed the phenomenon to the good offices 
of his companion, whom she stayed with a gesture as 
he was about to hurriedly leave the room. 

You will stop and have supper with us, Fred,'’ she 
said, kissing her father on the forehead, and shaking 
Mr. Holder warmly by the hand. ‘‘ I want you to keep 
him company while I am getting it ready. Come — I 
will take your hat.’’ 

If he had been conspiring with the joiner to burn 
down the house that very night Mr. Holder could 
scarcely have exhibited greater signs of self-conscious 
guilt than he had done on her entrance. But now, 
with this direct appeal from her to spend the evening 
with them — to be under fire from those eyes, knowing 
what he knew and what she didn't know — it was a 
wonder to goodness he didn't drop down in his tracks. 

I — I've jest had my supper. Miss Mary " (Mr. 
Holder had never been able to address her as befited 
the daughter of his mate). ‘'Ain't I, William?" he 
added, with an imploring look at the joiner, who 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


Ill 


seemed unable to take his eyes from his daughter as 
she bustled about the room m her preparations for the 
evening's meal. 

'' So you're telling me, Fred," remarked his more 
truthful host, with a whimsical glance of concern at his 
friend's very palpable signals of distress. ‘‘ We won't 
keep him, Mary. You needn't stop, Fred. We will 
both excuse him this time." 

Not until he has drunk to your speedy recovery, 
father," said his daughter, laughingly, and producing 
a bottle of beer from out of the basket. Come, Fred! 
You must make yourself useful while you are here. 
There! you may draw the cork. Fll propose the toast 
myself." 

Her cheeriness of voice and manner was so contag- 
ious, and served to place this timid Hercules so much 
more at his ease, that, for the moment, he half regretted 
his refusal of her invitation to stay. But to any one 
more observant than the joiner and his companion it 
would not have escaped their notice that she persistent- 
ly refrained from looking either of the two men in the 
face, and that for all her light-heartedness of manner, 
there was an element of feverish restlessness about it 
that sadly marred its spontaneity. It would also have 
been apparent that the young girl had altered very 
much in appearance since we last had the pleasure of 
her acquaintance on the evening of her tete-a-tete with 
her quondam lover in Battersea Park. Her eyes, it is 
true, were larger and much brighter — if such a thing 
were possible — but her cheeks had sunk appreciably, 
while into their marble pallor (on the very site of those 
ravishing dimples) a faint red flush had come. All this, 
together with a drawn look about the sensitive little 
mouth, spoke eloquently of an interval of great mental 
suffering. 

Mr. Holder had now succeeded in extracting the 


112 


BIGBY RAVELYN. 


cork; and then having duly filled up the three tumb- 
lers, he handed her one with a labored bow, placed the 
second within reach of her father, and, with the third 
held out tremblingly in his own right hand, stood look- 
ing from one to the other in an attitude of helpless 
discomfort. 

''Now, father, dear — and you, Fred!^’ cried the 
young girl, with a vivacity that astonished her hearers 
not a little. " With all our hearts and strength, and 
with the help of Him who will guide us on our way — 
‘ to a new life! ’ ’’ 

"A new life!'' exclaimed her father, staying the 
glass on its way to his lips, and glancing up at her with 
unqualified surprise. " To a new life! " 

" And never a better toast on this earth ! " cried Mr. 
Holder, with sudden enthusiasm. " ' To a new life ' it 
is, my dear! William, drink it up at once. And may 
our young countrywomen never give us a worse one. 
Here's ' To a new life '." 

This toast, together with a second, " to my dear 
father's speedy recovery," having been duly honored, 
and the glasses put away, Mr. Holder bade his host 
good-night, and giving his hand to Mary Downs, to- 
gether with his fervid blessing, assumed his hat and 
turned to go. 

Arrived at the door, however, he hesitated for a 
second as if about to speak ; but, on receiving a warning 
look from the carpenter and joiner, he appeared to 
think better of the proposition, whatever it may have 
been, and instead departed. 

Mr. Downs sat for some time in silence, vainly en- 
deavoring to catch his daughter's eye as she hurried to 
and fro between the parlor and the kitchen, during the 
process of setting out the supper ware. Never in all 
his experience had she paid less attention to him and 
more to her household duties than she appeared to be 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


113 

doing that night. On the other hand the song (the one 
that had always pleased him best) had never sounded to 
his ears so sweetly pleasant as it did then from her 
lips. It was a simple little negro ballad that had 
touched their hearts at an entertainment to which he 
had taken her when she was yet a mere child; but it 
had always brought him back pleasant memories of 
that evening and the tiny golden-headed little mite, 
crowing in rapturous delight by his side. 

When the food had been duly prepared and arranged 
upon the table she came over to him at the fireside, and 
having again kissed him, assisted him to his seat with 
a tender solicitude that was almost matronly. 

Now, father! she cried, with great apparent glee, 
as she smoothed his hair from his forehead, and then 
adjusted his chair to the angles of a somewhat circum- 
scribed table. '‘Taste that soup! Hah-h! — and tell 
me if it is a /a restaurant ^ or not! ’’ 

" But my child ’’ 

" Don't talk — or it will get cold — bread? " 

" But " 

" Father, do get on with your supper, or I shall get 
cross — I shall, really. Salt? Do you recognize the 
flavor of the celery, or have I been so stupid as to for- 
get it? " 

" It's the best soup I ever tasted in all my life! " re- 
plied her father, conclusively, but with his eyes still 
fixed upon his daughter in anxious scrutiny. " But, 
Ma " 

“ Pass the spoon, dear. I am famished, and can't 
talk." 

" Of course you will be famished, my poor girl," as- 
sented Mr. Downs, with great concern. " I won't say 
another word." 

And yet for a young person in the last stages of 
hunger, she appeared to eat very little indeed. As a 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


II4 

matter of fact, she removed her plate before it had been 
half emptied, and, with the appearance of the steak, ex- 
cused herself from any participation in its juicy proper- 
ties on the plea that the strengthening ingredients of 
the former had rendered such a course unnecessary. 

All this, and a great deal more, had not escaped the 
notice of the observant Mr. Downs during the meal; 
but in deference to her implied wish not to allude to any 
subject other than the eatables before him, he went 
steadily on and held his peace. 

The supper over, and her father once more installed 
in his armchair by the fire, she removed the table 
equipage from the parlor in to the kitchen beyond, and 
left him for the time being to his pipe and his medita- 
tions. 

The room in which he sat was cozy in the extreme. 
The appointments, without being in the least degree 
luxurious, were, in point of solid comfort, such as few 
of his fellow-workmen could boast of. The house, or 
rather cottage, with its curious arrangement of rooms 
that opened one into another in the most unexpected 
fashion, was obviously of a past century, and had evi- 
dently constituted a small inn, or halfway house of call 
on the main road from London to Epsom, at a time 
when highway robbery as a profession was in its hey- 
day. 

Outside the wind, which had been steadily rising 
all that afternoon, had swelled into half a gale, and 
was just then shaking the small latticed windows of the 
old-fashioned little parlor, exactly as it had done on 
that wild, rainy night, a week ago, when she had come 
home to him soaked to the skin and agitated to an ex- 
tent that had fairly frightened him — a period from 
which he had dated that marked change in her man- 
ner which had culminated this evening in a restless- 
ness that was almost hysterical. 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


IIS 

With his eyes fixed steadfastly on the leaping flames, 
and listening with mingled feelings of sorrow and pleas- 
ure to that loved voice — the voice of her dead mother — 
as it rose and fell with the rumbling of the wind in the 
cavernous chimney, the carpenter and joiner sat mo- 
tionless and rigid in his well-stuffed chair in momen- 
tary expectation of her return to his side. 

Presently he became aware that her footfalls had 
ceased, and that with them the song itself had come to 
an abrupt ending. The moment he had been longing 
for had now surely arrived; and he turned his eyes from 
the fire to the door, with a bright smile of welcome 
mantling his weather-worn features. Then, as she still 
failed to put in an appearance, he called her by her pet 
name, once — twice — three times, and each time with 
an ever-increasing sense of fear at his heart. But from 
the inner room there came no response. Not a sound 
fell on his ears but the echo of his own voice, the moan- 
ing of the wind outside, and the fierce beat of the rain 
against the window panes. 

He arose with a painful effort from his seat and with 
an expression of genuine alarm on his face, groped 
his way along the walls and into the little back room 
that did duty as a kitchen. 

And there, seated by the table, with her face buried 
in her hands, he found her — swaying to and fro in an 
attitude of the direst grief, and sobbing as though her 
heart were about to break. 

In less time than it takes to tell, he had his arms 
about her and was assisting her to her feet; and then, 
with the little aching head pressed — oh, so tightly — to 
his breast, led her back into the parlor, and, sinking into 
his chair, drew his daughter down on to his lap and mur- 
mured words of comfort in her ears. 

Come, come, tell me — tell your father all, Maysie, 
darling,” he implored, as the little hands twisted them- 


ii6 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


selves convulsively among his grizzled curls, and sob 
on sob came forth with an energy that almost seemed 
to threaten her with instant dissolution. '' Who has 
done you this injury, dear? Don’t be afraid to tell 
me — your father. Was it he who was to have been 
here to-night — young Ravelyn? If it was, don’t shield 
him; for by the ” 

Oh, no — no — no! ” she essayed to interrupt him in 
the intervals of her paroxysms. '' Don’t — don’t — 
don’t blame him. Blame no one but — but me. Oh, 
father! father! Be kind to me — love me! For you 
are all that is left in the world to me, now. Your love 
— your sympathy, dear father — I do so want it — 
now! ” 

'' And you shall have it, Maysie — as you always have 
had, and always will have it,” he murmured, kissing 
her tear-stained cheek, and gently patting her tumbled 
hair — as, indeed, he had been wont to do full many a 
score of times, when, as a child, she had crept up into 
his lap for that same sympathy and love she now craved 
of him. 

'' I thought to be brave,” she went on, pushing the 
hair from her eyes and looking up at him through her 
blinding tears. I thought to hold out to the end — 
for fear you should lose heart and break down as well 
as myself; but I couldn’t — oh, I couldn’t — I couldn’t.” 

Then with her right arm wound around his neck and 
the left buttoning and unbuttoning his coat collar with 
the purportless energy of a bygone habit, little by little 
the fury of the storm within her bosom subsided, and 
she lay with her eyes fixed on the blazing coals, passive 
and still. 

'' You asked me about /t/m,” she said, presently, in 
quieter tones, but with still quivering lips and gather- 
ing tears ; ‘‘ and I wished you not to blame him, father. 
If I tell you that his — that both our eyes have at last 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


II7 

been opened to the impossibility of our being any more 
than what we have been to each other, and that we 
shall never — never meet in this world again. If I tell 
you this, and give you ny word that he is in no way to 
blame, will you, dear father, promise me that you will 
not try to seek him out and reproach him; and that, 
moreover, you will never mention his name to me 
again.” 

Will you be any the happier for my promising it, 
Mary? I am in your hands, my dearest child. Will 
you be any the happier for it? To me your slightest 
wish has ever been but a law to be obeyed; and if the 
raising of this hand to bless, or curse — or to strike him 
down, could bring you back your peace of mind, 
’twould soon be at your service, whichever way it might 
be!” 

He is not to blame,” she repeated again, and kept 
murmuring it beneath her breath a number of times, 
after the manner of one who would convince herself 
against her own knowledge. I was a woman, with a 
woman's heart and a woman's feelings, and I loved him 
— God knows! — for what he was — loved him still more, 
if that could be, for what he is now, and what he has 
sacrificed for me. But our eyes were opened — our 
eyes were opened. His, to the prospects of poverty, 
with a woman who had nothing in the world for him 
but her love; and mine, to the knowledge that, do what 
I might, without fortune I could never make him hap- 
py. Father, your promise. I shall be so — so much 
the happier for it.” 

He bent over her and sealed the undertaking with a 
kiss; but his eyes were blazing with righteous wrath 
at the implied wrong that had been done to his darling 
child. 

‘‘ And now, dear, for business ! ” she exclaimed, with 
much of her old cheery manner, as she stroked his 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


1 18 

hair and smiled up in his face. But, mind, before I 
go any further let me tell you that I am not in the least 
angry with you for withholding certain things from me 
— poor dear — why should I be? For had I been in 
your place would I not have done the same? Father, 
I know all ! ’’ 

‘‘ All! he faltered. 

Everything. What Mr. Chamfer has done — the 
notice to distrain — about the distress warrant itself — 
everything. I knew it last week — the night of the 
storm — and, oh! the burden this life has been to me 
since that terrible night, no one can ever know ! 

“ And you never told me, Maysie? 

And you never told father,” she retorted, shak- 
ing her finger at him in mock reproach. ‘‘ But there! 
Don’t be in the least alarmed. There shall nothing 
come of it, I hope. I took care of that on the very 
next day.” 

Mary,” said the carpenter and joiner, in a voice of 
grave admonition, you didn’t appeal to his charity — 
did you?” 

‘‘ Will you trust to me, father? ” she replied, evading 
the question with another, while her cheeks flushed up 
with conscious pride. I never failed you — or com- 
promised you yet; and I have not done so even now.” 

** And I have still the fullest confidence in you,” he 
said, caressing her head with his great rough hand. 

And what was the upshot of the interview — what said 
he?” 

That I shall know to-night,” she replied, hope- 
fully. ‘‘ He said he would require some time to con- 
sider; but that he would let me know his decision by 
letter to-day — and the ten o’clock post has not yet gone 
by.” 

And the decision?” 

‘‘ Whether he still intends to carry out the notice, or 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


I19 

will give us another quarter's grace, in order that we 
may arrange some means by that time of paying him 
in full" 

My brave, hopeful little Maysie," cried her father, 
as in a transport of joy he clasped her in his arms. 
'' But what would you say if I were to tell you that the 
money was already forthcoming? " 

Father, what do you mean?" 

What I say! I have clqsed with Fred's offer of 
fifty pounds under a bill of sale, this very evening." 

Oh, dear! oh, dear! — and after I had " 

Mary," said the joiner, sternly. ‘‘ You have been 
writing to your uncle George. Come! no prevarica- 
tion. You have written and asked him for money? " 

‘‘ I have," she answered him, fearlessly, and nestling 
closer to his side. But it is I who have written — 
not you, dear. And he will know that, when he reads 
the letter — if he ever gets it — which he is certain to, if 
he is alive and known — for I have sent it to the care of 
the British Consul in Buenos Ayres. I could not stand 
by and see our home go, without some effort to save it. 
Surely I had the right to do so, when your very life — 
my best of fathers — has been committed to my care. 
Uncle George may be a rich man now, and could well 
afford to lend you a hundred pounds — to be paid back 
by installments when we are both in full work. Be- 
sides, is he not your brother? " 

And you mean to tell me you have actually been 
and asked your Uncle George to lend us — me — a hun- 
dred pounds?" 

I do, father," she replied, with all the sweet can- 
dor of innocence. ‘‘ If you doubt me, ask Fred — he 
posted the letter." 

‘‘ He did — did he," remarked her father, with pained 
surprise. Then I shall never forgive him for his de- 
ceit — never." 


120 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


And I shall never forgive him for keeping your se- 
cret about the notice — dear good-hearted old Fred — 
But, father, does it not seem almost incredible that he 
should have saved up all this money? 

“ It certainly does; considering the small wages he 
gets, even when he is in full wwk — which isn’t always. 
And that’s why the thought of my not being able to re- 
pay him makes me feel very uncomfortable, Maysie. 
However, I am going to give him the bill of sale on 
the furniture for the amount. There’s some comfort 
in that.” 

The idea of Mr. Holder selling them up house and 
home struck his daughter as being so very ridiculous 
that, for the first time that week, she indulged in a fit 
of loud, heart-inspiring laughter. 

There, father,” she exclaimed, settling herself on 
her little hassock at his feet. '' The shower is passing 
and the sun shines forth once more. This is my month, 
you must remember (my birthday is on the thirty-first 
day of May). So you see I am privileged, after all, to 
laugh and to cry.” 

Eh! Your — your birthday. I forgot — good heav- 
ens! ” 

'"Oh, don’t be alarmed, father! No brokers will 
com.e near the house on such a day. I have never had 
an unhappy birthday yet; and something seems to tell 
me,” she added, suppressing a sigh, that the next may 
be the happiest of them all.” 

'' God grant it may, dear! ” prayed her father, ferv- 
ently. 

‘‘ And you wdll take me right away out into the 
country, among my dear, sweet little wdldflowers, won’t 
you, father? ” she pleaded. “ I seem to feel as if they 
were all w’aiting for me to wish me many, many happy 
returns of the day. Take me as yon once did on the 
V'ery first birthday I can remember.” 


DIGBY RAVELY'" 


I2I 


“ If my health will allow it, indeed I will, Maysie,’' 
he replied, smilingly. But tell me, can you carry 
your memory so far back into the past my pet? ’’ 

'' Indeed, indeed I can — as easily as though we were 
there again, going through all the sweet wanderings 
of that happiest of all days I can remember. Do you re- 
collect how you placed me on your shoulder going up 
the steep hill with the honeysuckles and daisies stretch- 
ing away up the slopes as far as the eye could reach? 
How I held tight on to your hair with both hands and 
coachee-horsed you up to the top, where there was a 
clump of tall trees — under which you built the little 
stone oven to warm the tea, and toast the bread? I 
can see it all as plain as if we were there again.’’ 

‘‘ I recollect it — the fire and all,” chimed in her 
father, with the greatest possible interest. The wind 

was the wrong way, and ” 

Yes, yes, and you were nearly smothered in the 
smoke,” she went on, laughing excitedly. What a 
memory you have got, father! Then when you had 
drunk to my health in tea, without any sugar in it — 
we’d forgotten that, father — there was the coming 
down again on the other side of the hill; I holding on 
to your walking stick while you drew me gently down 
the slope, and both of us shouting and laughing and 

scaring up whole flocks of butterflies and bees ! ” 

There was a hedge at the bottom of that hill,” pre- 
mised the carpenter and joiner, cautiously. 

“ There was — there was! ” she caught him up breath- 
lessly. A hawthorn and nut tree hedge. And when 
we got down to it you went over on the other side and 
pretended to leave me; and whenever I cried, you 
would put your head through a hole in it and boh at me 
till I laughed again. And beyond the hedge there was 
a beautiful green meadow dappled all over with more 
flowers, with a great tumbling forest of trees behind! ” 


122 


PIGBY RAVELYN. 


I don’t quite recollect that meadow, my dear,” re- 
marked her father, perplexedly. 

” Of course you don’t, you great stupid father, for 
you laid down in it at once, with your hat on your 
nose, and went to sleep for nearly an hour — and I made 
bangle chains of the dandelion stalks and hung them 
about you while you slept; and afterward watched over 
you to keep the bees and earwigs off. 

Then when you woke up we were both very hun- 
gry, again, and you took me into a big house on the 
roadside, where they all seemed to know you and like 
you, for they brought us out milk and cakes and wine, 
and made us stop to tea. And after tea, you sat me 
down in the middle of the parlor table, while the rest 
gathered around to hear you say how fond you were 
of me, and what a consolation I was to you for all you 
had lost — meaning poor mother. Penally you bade 
them all good-by, and wrapping me up in a shawl they 
had lent us, you took me in your arms and carried me 
away. After that I can recollect no more — I must 
have fallen asleep.” 

“ Would you like to go back to those scenes again, 
Maysie — to see that same hill, and hedge, and mead- 
ow, and those kind people at the big farmhouse? ” 

'' It is the one dearest wish of my heart. I dream 
of them so often. But with each succeeding dream 
they alter and fade, until I am led at times to believe 
that there is no such lovely spot on earth.” 

'' It was no dream, my pet,” said her father, reassur- 
ingly. And to prove it to you, I will take you back 
there again — if not this birthday, on the very next one 
that comes around. Perhaps — but I am afraid that is 
too good to think about now.” 

Do you mean that perhaps some day we may be 
able to go there and live? ” 

I do, Maysie. Stranger things than that have 


DIGBY RAVELYN, 


123 


happened before now. But, hark! — the postman, on 
his rounds! '' 

She fled from her seat to the door and leaned ag'ainst 
it, pale and trembling. 

What an age it seemed before the neighbor came to 
take his letter from the impatient official, and per- 
mitted him to continue his round. 

A flash of the lantern on the windowpanes — a mo- 
mentary pause on the doorstep; and then a thunder- 
ing rat-tat-rat-tat that set a small colony of dogs a- 
barking. 

‘‘ Downs,’’ growled the postman, in a voice of gruff 
remonstrance, as he gave up his charge and vanished 
into the teeming night. 

‘‘ For you father! Oh, let me read it! ” she cried, 
and broke the seal. 

Then, with her hand to her throbbing breast, and a 
face as white as the paper in her hand, she read out 
the following: 


“ 3 North Square, 

“ Gray’s Inn. 

“ Dear Sir : 

“ I am instructed by my client, Mr. Alfred Warner, to in- 
form you that he has purchased the freehold of No. 15 Park 
road, from the late proprietor, Mr. Henry Chamfer, of Great 
Lyddell street, Battersea. And I am further desired to inform 
you that in the purchase-money is included all arrears (if any) 
of rent that may be due to the before-mentioned Mr. Chamfer ; 
and that our client is prepared to waive all claim to such 
arrears (if any) conditionally on your signing the inclosed form 
of agreement, whereby you become his tenant for a term of 
three years, dating from July i next, when your tenancy under 
Mr. Warner will commence. 

“ I will be glad if you would communicate your decision at 
as early a date as possible. 

“ Yours faithfully, 

“Wiggins & Black.” 


124 


DIGBY RAVELY^. 


The new life, father! — the new life! was her in- 
coherent cry, as she came tottering toward him with 
the letter in her grasp and her eyes dancing wildly with 
excitement and great joy. 

Then, with a sudden drooping of the little head and 
an inarticulate cry of “ Father! father! — my poor Dig- 
by! '' she made a desperate effort to reach his side — 
there to fall swooning into his outstretched arms. 


CHAPTER XIL 

THE HAPPY FAMILY. 

The main line station of Maplehurst, near Dumbton, 
Kent, is all abustle at the signaled approach of the 
ten-forty, down,’’ with its expected contingent of 
trippers hurrying from the swelter of their monstrous 
township into the hopfields and rose gardens of Thanet, 
the health-bringing. 

On the arrival platform are the usual groups of 
interested rustics, staring blankly down the chalky 
perspective that points to Babylon and all its deviltries ; 
and time-worn jokes on the notorious unpunctual- 
ity of this particular line are being bandied about with 
all the heavy gusto that attended their birth. In the 
waiting-room — that most depressing of all apartments 
— time-tables, tracts, hotel guides, and kindred enliven- 
ing literature are being hastily consigned to the official 
table, and personal impedimenta collected with a fever- 
ish energy scarcely warranted in connection with a 
line that has been humorously likened unto procrasti- 
nation, and its definition vile. Empty vehicles roll 
swiftly up to the approaches and jostle one another 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


125 


freely for precedence. Touts at the sound of a dis- 
tant whistle take up their tumblers for the last time, 
and with the hastily swallowed contents, lounge un- 
steadily forth from the '' Railway Tavern,’’ to swell 
the crowd in waiting at the station. And in the middle 
of it all the ten-forty, down,” groaning and hissing 
like a disappointed pit, arrives, and relieves itself of 
the greater portion of its stiff-jointed occupants. 

“ That makes it just one hour and forty-eight min- 
utes late,” remarked Mr. Henry Chamfer, when he 
had tumbled out onto the platform and helped his 
daughter to alight. Dear, dear me ; why, we might 
have been in Birmingham in the time we’ve been com- 
ing down here ! ” 

‘‘ Easy ! ” acquiesced Mr. Thorwaldsen Chamfer, 
emerging after Miss Scagliola, and pulling his half- 
awakened brother after him. ‘‘ Easy enough, and done 
two burials into the bargain. Why, we’ve been a- 
crawling and a-crawling down like a — like a ” 

‘‘ Funeral procession,” ventured his father, with 
grim pleasantry. '' Like a funeral procession along a 
frozen road.” 

'' Don’t talk shop, Pa,” interposed his daughter, 
severely. One would think the only object we had 
in life was to get buried, to hear you go on.” 

'' And I’m not so certain that it ain’t, after all,” was 
the gloomy comment of the youngest Mr. Chamfer, 
who, in a child’s straw hat and exaggerated checks, 
had been surveying the rural prospect with ill-con- 
cealed disgust. 

“ It’s a pity, then, some people don’t get their object 
at once,” retorted Miss Chamfer, with a gratuitous 
meaning that was in the highest degree exasperating. 

I shouldn’t take a decline if they did — not me! ” 

I don’t suppose you would, considering the last one 
you had ! ” was the brutal reminder of a leap-year 


1^6 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


incident in which his sister was supposed to have taken 
a leading part. 

If I hear another word out of either of you/' joined 
in the senior Mr. Chamfer, with kindling wrath, '' I'll 
cross over to the other side and take the very next 

train back again. I will that — so help " 

Coach, sir ? " f^om a flyman. 

‘‘ — me Moses ! " continued Mr. Chamfer, ignoring 
the suggestion, and qualifying the expletive. ‘‘ It's been 
nothing but snack — snack — snack, between the two of 
you all the way down. I never heard anything like 
it in the whole of my life before. Never! Why, if 
you had been a married couple you couldn't have 
carried on worse. Now, don't let me hear another 
word out of you," continued Mr. Chamfer, with a 
very ominous scowl at the delinquents, '' unless you've 
both made up your minds to go right off home again ! 
There's my business going to rack and ruin; money 
getting scarcer every day; my houses being sold off 
under my eyes to meet our obligations. Everything 
about me pointing straight to the doors of the bank- 
ruptcy court and the work'us. And then, in the mid- 
dle of it all, when Tm forced into this bloomin' country, 
on a little private transaction of my own, I am bothered 
out of my life to take the lot of you along with me, and 
leave everything behind to chance, and — Mr. Fewkes." 

‘‘ Then on the top of all that," added Mr. Chamfer, 
bitterly, “ when, like the soft-hearted ass I always was, 
and always will be, I consents to the whole of you com- 
ing, you ups and starts a-fightin' with one another just 

for all the world like " ^ 

‘'You're not reckoning me in, I hope, father?" re- 
monstrated Mr. Thorwaldsen Chamfer, almost plain- 
tively. 

“ Not you, my boy," replied his parent, more gra- 
ciously for the moment, and smiling benevolently upon 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


127 


his first born and favorite. ‘‘ You’re the only one of the 
whole shoot that ever took after his father. Not you, 
Thorry, my boy. You’ve always been the apple of my 
heart from the moment I first laid eyes on you and 
hailed you, so to speak, by instinct, as one in whose 
bald little head all the common sense of a Burial Board 
lay smoldering. Whater-meantersay — it was a case, 
if ever there was one, of the body of an infant, and the 
soul of a ” 

‘‘ Fly, sir? ” from the driver, who had been an impa- 
tient listener to the foregoing disquisition. 

‘‘ How much to Ravelyn House, Dumbton, and back 
again for self and the — children ? ” queried Mr. Cham- 
fer, tentatively. 

'' There and back — ten shillin’s,” replied the man, 
after he had sized them up like live stock. 

Let’s walk, Pa,” decided Miss Scagliola, promptly. 

Eight shillin’s,” corrected the driver. 

“ And get more of the fresh air — wouldn’t we? ” said 
Mr. Chamfer. ‘‘ Not at all a bad idea, Scaggs. I 
wonder we didn’t think of it before.” 

Seven,” said the driver, turning to go ; whereupon 
the undertaker at once closed the offer, and, with his 
family and parcels, forthwith proceeded to fill up the 
coach. 

When they had all settled down comfortably into 
their respective seats, and the driver had gathered up 
his reins preparatory to making a start, Mr. Chamfer, 
on the plea of adjusting his watch to the exact country 
time, left the conveyance and walked leisurely off in 
the direction of the Railway Tavern.” But, owing 
to his unduly prolonged stay at that hostelry, his son 
Alfred, under the mistaken impression that his father 
had become the victim of some foul conspiracy on the 
part of the inhabitants, was presently induced to va- 
cate his seat and follow after him. 


128 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


I am sure something must have happened to father 
and Alf/’ presently remarked Mr. Thorwaldsen Cham- 
fer, in alarmed tones, to his sister. “ You stop where 
you are, Scaggs, and mind the parcels, while I go and 
fetch them back.'' 

‘‘ I'll do nothing of the sort," said that young lady, 
with praiseworthy firmness, as she likewise got out and 
made tracks for the Tavern. " I’ve never forsaken Pa 
yet, and what's more, I never shall — for all his cruelties 
to me ! " 

‘‘ Ketch 'old of the 'orse’s 'ead, Tom," said the driver 
to the station porter in attendance, as he climbed down 
from his seat and made for the same objective point. 

I rayther fancy the old gen'lman’s been and got into 
some bother over there, and will want some 'elp maybe 
to get 'ini out of it again." 

It was, therefore, with no small degree of relief that 
the porter saw the whole party emerge from the portals 
of the " Railway Tavern," and, without comment of any 
kind, once more assume the seats they had so motive- 
lessly abandoned. 

They mostly always imports theirs direct from 
'Olland, sir," said the driver confidentially to Mr. Cham- 
fer, when they had got well out into the country, and 
the prolonged silence had become quite painful. 

‘‘ Which ? " queried the undertaker, vacuously. 

“ The gin, sir," returned the other, catching Mr. 
Alfred Chamfer's eye, and venturing on a deferential 
wink. " Pm a Londoner, myself, and knows a good 
thing when I tastes it. And, take my word for it, miss 
(to Miss Chamfer), you won't none of you feel any 
the wuss for it — even if you'd ventured on a third go." 

‘‘ Ahem ! My dear ! " interrupted Mr. Chamfer, 
quickly, and addressing himself to his daughter. ‘‘ If 
you have no objection to riding with your back to the 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


129 


horse, Til change seats with you. Coin' backwards al- 
ways did start me off a bit sea-sicky — thank you.’' 

Having effected the change and thereby interposed 
his daughter as a moral barrier between himself and 
further irrelevant comment, Mr. Chamfer drew his hat 
down over his eyes, folded his arms on his breast, and 
presently went off to sleep. 

The day was hot and the roads extremely white and 
dusty, while a mid-day sun shone fiercely down from 
a cloudless sky upon the Chamfer family reclining 
in a state of armed neutrality that threatened to come 
to an end with the departure of the senior member into 
the land of Nod. Induced by the oppressiveness of the 
weather and the all-pervading dust from the highway. 
Miss Chamfer produced what appeared to be a laced 
skirt from out of the well of the coach, and, after 
some little difficulty, turned it suddenly into a parasol 
in full ball dress. Mr. Thorwaldsen Chamfer, after 
an ineffectual attempt to get within the shadow of its 
blood-red canopy, borrowed a comic paper from his 
brother and forthwith followed his father into tempo- 
rary oblivion. Mr. Alfred Chamfer fell into a conver- 
sation with the driver on the comparative merits of the 
several London music halls, and kept it up briskly, until 
an unfortunate question bearing on a detail of feminine 
hosen, drew down upon him a well-merited rebuke from 
the scandalized Miss Chamfer — when he also lapsed 
into silence. 

The country through which they were journeying 
improved very much in picturesqueness the further 
they progressed. Hills arose on every side of them; 
some wooded all over; others as bare as a South Wales 
dune, with here and there a wind-bound windmill 
crowning their tops; but all in Nature’s own sweet 
keeping, and, to a jaded Londoner, beautiful beyond 
compare. Nearing Dumbton they left all rising ground 


130 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


behind them and plunged into a region of bracken and 
forest, where the dust was not so apparent, and where 
the sun itself was excluded at times by the interlacing 
of gigantic trees overhead. Cottages were now few 
and far between, and where met with were so com- 
pletely hidden by the dense foliage, that but for the 
smoke that curled up over the treetops, and the pretty 
rose-cheeked children running to the gates, their pres- 
ence would probably have been passed unperceived. 

In one such sylvan scene as this Miss Chamfer felt 
constrained to stop the conveyance, and alight to gather 
some foxgloves. And, with the assistance of the driver 
and her brother Thorwaldsen, she had succeeded in col- 
lecting quite an armful of these flowers, when the ces- 
sation of motion caused her father to wake up sudden- 
ly, and to imagine himself (as he afterward expressed 
himself) in heaven. But the foxgloves having asso- 
ciated themselves in Mr. Alfred Chamfer's mind with 
the Blue Bells of Scotland," the undertaker was 
speedily reminded of his mundane affinities by the 
fierce wrangle that ensued between the two youngest 
members of the family. 

‘‘ Throw 'em away ! " cried he angrily to his daugh- 
ter, and alluding to the unfortunate flowers. ‘‘ Throw 
'em away — there's earwigs in 'em — do you hear me? 
Drop them, this minute. Can't you see they're only 
wildflowers, after all, and no manner of use to any- 
body?" 

I — I only got them just as a curiosity. Pa, to bring 
home with us," faltered Miss Chamfer, considerably 
taken aback by this unwonted display of ill-temper on 
the part of her father. 

‘‘ Bah ! " shouted the undertaker, disgustedly. 

Curiosities, indeed ! I don't want no curiosities 
a-creepin' down the back of my neck. If you're bound 
to have such fal-lals you have only got to ask me, and 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


ril get you a barrowload of hothouse ’uns from the 
‘ Garden ’ any day of the week — at trade price. Then 
you’ll know what you’re a-smellin’ of. How can you tell 
but that thing might be a deadly nightcap or some- 
thing, and start your nose off bleeding — with a fit to 
follow ? Bah ! Throw ’em away ! ” 

Miss Chamfer disgorged, and climbed sullenly into 
the coach. 

I never saw Pa so put out as he has been all to-day,” 
she remarked in an undertone to her brother Thorwald- 
sen, as he slipped in after her. I expect its on ac- 
count of the business — isn’t it ? ” 

Of course it is,” he replied. ‘‘ What else could it 
be — unless it’s the way you and Alf have been carrying 
on over nothing.” 

Me, indeed ! What next — the idea ! But, tell me, 
Thorry, how came he to part with No. 15 — I never 
heard the proper version of it ? ” 

“ Forced work,” replied her brother. It was a case 
of selling it or letting the masons go without their 
wages. It was a touch-and-go with us then, I can tell 
you, and I never knew of an offer to buy coming in so 
fortunate at the right moment as that did. Why, he 
was talking to me that very morning of sacking old 
Fewkes, and selling up the business to Blagworth ! ” 

Oh, Thorry, do you think it’s all as bad as he makes 
out, and that we shall really get bankrupted in the 
end?” 

'' There’s no think at all about it, my girl. I am 
dead certain of it.” 

But, Thorry, he’ll get the money he is going for 
to-day, won’t he? That will be something toward it? ” 
“ Flush ! There’s Alf listening. For heaven’s sake, 
don’t let him hear you, or he will spoil everything ! It 
was a good move on father’s part to keep him out of 
that business altogether.” 


132 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


Rather. Do you think I might tell father about 
the letter I found in his pocket — the unsigned one to 
her? I owe him one for what he reminded me of just 
now.” 

'' Don’t you do it, Scaggs, or it might bring him 
on a paralytic stroke as likely as not. He’s been con- 
trolling and controlling that awful temper of his so long 
that if he was suddenly to hear that Alf was in the 
same boat along with young Ravelyn — both sweet on 
the same gal ; and her, above all others — I shouldn’t 
like to answer for the consequences.” 

'' I wonder he allowed him to come with us at all, 
Thorry, knowing how indiscreet he always is.” 

'' You see, he was bound to, Scaggs. When it comes 
to outdaring one another, the old man, I am sorry to 
say, don’t always hold his own — Jee-hosophat ! What 
was that ? ” 

A piercing blast from a trumpet rang out on the still 
summer air, causing the horse to shy out of the roadway 
and bringing the whole party to their feet in a state of 
the utmost alarm. 

Stop ! — stop ! — stop ! ” roared Mr. Henry Chamfer, 
in a perfect frenzy of passion, and hooking the driver 
by the collar with the handle of his stick. Stop the 
horse and turn back again, this minute — do you hear 
me? ” 

All right, governor — keep your hair on. I’ll put it 
up,” said Mr. Alfred Chamfer, with a very red face 
over the keys of a cornet-a-piston, at his outraged 
father. I didn’t know there would be any harm in a 
tune on the road.” 

Any harm, sir — any harm ! Put it down I tell you 
this moment, or you’ll get out and walk the rest of the 
way by yourself. Any harm, indeed! Do you want 
’em to take us for a travelin’ menagerie or a bank holi- 
day outin’, or what ? Upon my word, I am beginning to 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


133 


think youVe got some design in your head to drive me 
clean out of my mind so's to get rid of me altogether. 
But you’re not a’goin’ to do it, Mr. Alfred Chamfer — 
not just yet, you ain’t.” 

Father and son looked at one another for some mo- 
ments with an expression of intense dislike that was 
not pleasant to witness. Then the younger man, turn- 
ing his eyes aside under the more concentrated ma- 
lignity of the elder one’s gaze, subsided into a fit 
of heavy despond that lasted without break until the 
journey’s end. 

Whatever impression the country side had hitherto 
made upon the Chamfer family, the drive from the 
lodge gates of Ravelyn House, through a scene of al- 
most fairy-like beauty, drew forth their loudly ex- 
pressed admiration. In and out among piles of rockery, 
groves of fir, sloping lawns, by artificial lakes, pebbly 
brooks, and over rustic bridges, and plunging cascades, 
the carriage drive wound, until the two youngest Cham- 
fers, who had not been here before, almost wondered 
if they had not struck into a disused road that was 
leading them in the direction of some primeval forest. 

Ravelyn House itself came suddenly into view, 
crowning a series of flowered and fountained terraces, 
with a background of dark green boskage stretching 
far away into the purple distance. It was a rambling 
old mansion of no particular period, whose many ad- 
ditions spoke eloquently of the varied tastes of its oc- 
cupants. There were Elizabethan wings, Norman 
turrets. Gothic windows, Italian faqades, and Grecian 
porticoes ; to say nothing of a small settlement of mod- 
ern stables and farms that rambled off at sweet will 
into the backwoods beyond. And yet, owing entirely 
to the background before mentioned, the ivy-grown 
battlements, and a complete wall of flowering fuchsia 
that lined a trellised verandah along its whole frontage. 


J34 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


there was little in the disposition or the sky line of the 
agglomerated pile to displease the artistic eye. 

Before one of these haphazard angles the Chamfer 
party drew up ; and, after duly cautioning his 
rather awestruck family to be on their very best beha- 
vior during his absence, the undertaker got out, 
stretched his legs, and made for the great entrance, 
where a footman in waiting received his card and 
ushered him into the hall. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

MR. ALFRED CHAMFER IS PULLED THROUGH THE 
SECRET DOOR. 

Throughout the length of the baronial apartment in- 
to which Mr. Chamfer was conducted, a dozen pieces 
of field artillery (mementos of the colonel's Indian 
campaigns) commanded through an equal number of 
windows the terrace and a large tract of the country 
beyond; and on the old walls, banners, armoury, oil 
paintings, and antlers hung in such rich profusion 
that to have made oneself acquainted with their several 
histories would have absorbed more time and attention 
than Mr. Chamfer, at any rate, would have cared to 
bestow. 

Seated in this great hall during what time the foot- 
man might announce his host, the undertaker and mon- 
umental mason, notwithstanding that this was his sec- 
ond visit to Ravelyn House, could not wholly resist the 
feeling of self-eflfacement that surroundings such as 
these always engendered within him. Whether it was 
in the marble vestibule of the “ Warriors " under the 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


I3S 

insolent surveillance of its silent-footed menials, or 
here, alone, beneath the immense spread of fretted roof, 
with a score of framed Ravelyns and mailed effigies 
gazing down upon him in seeming protest from every 
conceivable angle and niche of the walls, the moral im- 
pression was pretty much the same; a growing sus- 
picion of his own inconsequence, and the corresponding 
loss of self-confidence that such feelings always bring 
in their train. In many respects, therefore, it was a 
repetition of his '' Warrior’s ” experiences, even to the 
entrance of the somnolent Major Wolferton with the 
morning papers in his hand. 

‘‘ Mornin’, mornin’. Major,” said Mr. Chamfer, 
cheerily, advancing to shake hands with that officer. 

“ Er — er, mornin’ — Yers — How’do,” replied the 
other, with a repellent nod, and walked out again. 

“ Manners ! ” muttered the undertaker, resentfully, 
returning to his medieval seat and scowling angrily at 
the closing door. You just wait till I holds out my 
hand to you again, my fine — fat-headed — young sleep- 
walker, and you’ll know what eternal infinity means, 
if you never did before. Manners, indeed ! Why ” 

“ The colonel had set down to his music before I 
was able to announce you, sir,” interrupted the foot- 
man, appearing suddenly at the door with Mr. Cham- 
fer’s card in his hand, ‘‘ and, of course, as you know, I 
couldn’t disturb him until he’d got through with it.” 

'' Oh, certainly, certainly,” responded the under- 
taker, dissembling his ruffled dignity with a supreme 
effort. ‘‘ Don’t let him hurry over it on my account — 
I can wait.” 

And Mr. Vinning,” continued the footman, impas- 
sively, '' he says would you be so kind as to take a seat 
in the library while you’re waiting.” 

I thanks Mr. Vinning, and accepts his kind invite,” 
said Mr. Chamfer; rising and following the domestic. 


136 DIGBY RAVELYN. 

Wait a minute, though,’’ he added, as an after- 
thought, and making for a window. I should just 
like to be certain about that horse before I goes. Ah ! 
— Get out ! would you — Ugh ! you brute ! ” 

The latter remarks, delivered in accents of genuine 
alarm, were addressed to a huge man-eating tiger, into 
whose open jaws the undertaker narrowly escaped 
stepping while groping his way toward the nearest 
window recess. 

'' What’s the good of letting a thing like that lie 
about the house to frighten the life and soul out of a 
body ! I declare it’s been and given me quite a turn, so 
it has!” 

” That’s a man-eating tiger from Badgerighat, sir,” 
explained the domestic soothingly to the undertaker. 

A stuffed ’un, of course, nozv. The colonel, he shot 
it with his own hands just as it was a-coming down 
on the top of him to make a meal of him.” 

'‘Did he?” growled Mr. Chamfer, still eyeing the 
gaping monster with the gravest suspicion, and wish- 
ing in his heart for the moment that it had been per- 
mitted to consummate the repast. " Did he, now ! 
Well, all I can say is, it’s a lucky job for us we haven’t 
got such things runnin’ about wild in this country — 
lucky for us, I mean, from a professional point of view. 
For we’d have to put up our shutters in no time and 
leave all the undertaking to them.” 

With this comment, and having noted that his 
youngest son (about whose restiveness, and not the 
horse’s, he had had his misgivings) was in place in 
the coach, Mr. Chamfer followed the servant into the 
adjoining library, and set himself down to wait the 
colonel’s advent. 

As the drawing-room, in which the master of the 
house chose to pursue his musical studies was in jux- 
taposition to the library, Mr. Chamfer, while in attend- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


137 


ance, was in a position to follow a somewhat ultra- 
classical study throughout its many ramifications, and 
also, in a measure, to judge of the colonel’s proficiency 
as an executant. 

'' That’s ’Andel,” muttered the undertaker, after 
listening attentively to a theme that his host (with one 
finger, apparently) was thumping out with military 
precision on the drawing-room grand. I could swear 
to ’Andel’s music any day by the twiddligigs he’s al- 
ways bringing into it, and a sort of a ' Dead March in 
Saul ’ toon runnin’ through it all. I can’t a’bear it, 
myself,” he continued, rising and taking his favorite 
work on monuments from a neighboring bookcase; 

'' but it’s the fashion to like it, and to swear by it — and 
I always keeps in with the popular taste.” He en- . 
sconced himself in his host’s favorite armchair by the 
fireplace and attempted to read. But, willy-nilly, his 
attention kept wandering away from the work before 
him to the florid melody within, and finally remained 
with it to the end. 

The colonel had, as far as Mr. Chamfer could judge, 
contributed another finger to the performance. For, 
the same air, introduced in a lower and a louder key, 
had made itself suddenly apparent during the onward 
march of the primal theme, and kept dogging the foot- 
steps of the latter with a rugged independence so com- 
mendable, and yet so irrelevant to the piece, as a whole, 
that it was a positive relief to Mr. Chamfer when a 
third, a fourth, and a fifth finger, all harping on the 
same air, and each traveling, as it were, in a different 
orbit, claimed their part in the performance and re- 
duced the parent melody to an inextricable maze of 
wrangling sound. 

Mr. Chamfer, after one or two praiseworthy efforts 
to grasp the leit motif of this musical treatise, finally 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


133 

gave up the attempt as worse than useless. He could 
make nothing of it. 

It was a fugue. 

In the midst of the hubbub, now considerably height- 
ened by the remaining five fingers, and the colonel's 
sonorous voice, and a metronome marking time, the 
door opened, and a tall young man in all black, slimly 
proportioned, with light hair, pale complexion, and a 
remarkably wide-awake look in his clear, light-colored 
eyes, walked quietly into the room, and greeted the 
undertaker with easy familiarity. 

'' How extraordinarily well you are looking, sir," 
said the slim, fair-faced young man (whom Mr. Cham- 
fer addressed as Mr. Vinning). “ You Londoners, in 
the matter of health, are quite a reproach to us bump- 
kins down here. Extraordinarily well ! " 

'' Fm bound to say I don't experience it," responded 
Mr. Chamfer, bluntly. He always felt when in this 
young man's company that however uncommunicative 
he might be, the latter was insidiously seeking by look 
or suggestion to draw him ; and he liked him none the 
better for it. 

'' Healthy people as a rule seldom do," commented 
the other, getting astride of a chair, and rattling out 
an obligato accompaniment to Handel on his teeth 
with a paper knife. “ The condition is so normal with 
them, you see, that with the restlessness of our species, 
they are ever on the lookout for some better condition 
of health. Take me — the obverse side — for instance. 
I don't remember when I was ever in perfect health 
in all my life. An egg to me simply spells mortifica- 
tion; and tea — sudden death. But the same restless- 
ness of aspiration affects me in the same manner as it 
does yourself — only, of course, in an inverse ratio. 
You, being healthy, are constantly in search of more 
health. I, from chronic indisposition, am continually 


DIGBY ItAVELYN. 


139 


anticipating something worse — and take an almost 
morbid pleasure in doing so/’ 

Mr. Vinning had an irritating way, when drawing a 
conclusion, of screwing up one eye, fixing his hearer 
with the other, and sucking his teeth with a sharp, 
snapping sound, all in the same moment of time — a 
habit that tended in no small measure to augment the 
feeling of dislike with which he was regarded by the 
worthy undertaker. 

‘‘ That’s one way of looking at it,” observed that per- 
son, sourly. Though whether it is so or not is an- 
other question, of course. Personally, and inn’ardly, 
I never felt more dicky in all my time, whatever I may 
look like on the outside.” 

Business bad ? ” queried the young man, with an 
engaging blend of sympathy and confidence in his 
voice. 

Never was duller,” almost groaned the under- 
taker. ‘‘ Last winter was the worst one I ever knew.” 

‘‘ But, my dear sir, last winter was an exceptionally 
mild one ! ” 

Of course it was ; and that’s why I’m telling you 
it was one of the worst ones I ever experienced.” 

H’m — I see,” said the young man more sympa- 
thetically than ever, and drawing his chair nearer to 
the other. Pardon me if, at first, your words struck 
me as being somewhat paradoxical. And how is the 
prodigal ? ” 

Do you mean Mr. Digby Ravelyn? ” 

Mr. Vinning nodded suggestively. 

'' Don’t know,” said the undertaker, shortly. I 
haven’t seen him since I left Dumbton last year.” 

Terrible affair, that of his, wasn’t it — this mesal- 
liance?'' 

'' A reg’ler mess altogether,” assented the under- 
taker, shifting uneasily under the searching look of this 


140 DIGBY RAVELYN. 

! -Oi, s: I»1 -- 

self-possessed young man, and praying for the colonel's 
speedy arrival. 

'‘Married by this time, I suppose?" hazarded Mr. 
Vinning, lightly. 

" And, supposin', sir, he was ; might I ask what 
the !" 

" Not at all — pray don't," interposed the amanuen- 
sis, hastily, as he anticipated the query, which the angry 
flush on the undertaker's cheeks clearly foretokened. 
" Mr. Ravelyn's private affairs are nothing to me — 
why should they be. But, I say, won't you take some 
refreshment — a glass of wine or something?" 

" Thankee, I'd rayther not, if it's all the same to 
you," said Mr. Chamfer more graciously. He found 
it impossible to nourish any prolonged feeling of re- 
sentment against a young man whose almost supernal 
air of cool, clear-headed irresponsibility admitted of no 
solid ground for attack. " I am due back in town again 
almost immediately. In fact, I oughtn't really to be 
here at all, if it wasn't that I'd promised the colonel 
in London to — to — report on the condition of the Mau- 
soleum. I wonder if he got my letter last week telling 
him of my coming down about it." 

" Let me see," reflected Mr. Vinning, with just the 
faintest approach to a thoughtful wrinkle on his some- 
what restricted brow. " Did he ? — Oh, of course he 
did. But, I say, there was nothing about the Mauso- 
leum in it, you know." 

With the discovery that this young person had had 
access to a strictly private communication of his — to 
say nothing of the triumphant snap with which the 
disturbing fact was confirmed, Mr. Chamfer for the 
first time for many a day began to feel a little uneasy 
in his mind. 

" He showed it to you, then ? " he asked in a low 
voice. 


BIGBY RAVELYN. 


141 

You appear to have forgotten that I have the honor 
of acting in the capacity of amanuensis to Colonel 
Ravelyn/' 

It was an awkward — a very awkward — moment for 
Mr. Chamfer, though the possibility of its being so was 
not in the least apparent in the open-eyed yet disin- 
terested stare with which he was being regarded by this 
extraordinarily self-possessed young man. 

In the interval of painful silence that supervened, the 
colonel was heard to arrive at the five-barred gate, as 
it were, of fugal climax, and (metaphorically speak- 
ing) to come to the usual disastrous cropper which had 
ever attended its surmounting. 

Mr. Vinning took up the shattered coda in a soft, 
warbling whistle as he sat with his eyes fixed on a point 
just two inches above Mr. Chamfer's head, and kept 
pace with the colonel, beating time with an exquisitely 
delicate white hand that held Chamfer's attention, be- 
cause it reminded him of a marble angel's hand upon 
a tombstone, until he chanced to see that the little finger 
was gone, which suggested to him crumbling Time. 

The hand waved until the final bar brought the whole 
study to a somewhat rickety conclusion. 

Then the footman's voice was heard to announce Mr. 
Chamfer’s arrival ; and, almost immediately afterward, 
a curtain was drawn, a dummy bookcase revolved on 
its hinges, and Colonel Ravelyn stood in the room be- 
fore them. 

Delighted to see you ! " cried the master of the 
house, looking inquiringly into his guest's eyes, while 
shaking him effusively by the hand. I had no idea 
you were in waiting; don't run away, Vinning, I shall 
want you ! " 

The almost imploring ring in his voice when appeal- 
ing for the support of his amanuensis spoke a good deal 
for the influence the latter had acquired over his iron 


142 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


will. It also served to render Mr. Chamfer mo^e un- 
easy in his mind than ever. 

'‘If it's all the same to you, Colonel ” began that 

person, with a pointed glance toward the neutral look- 
ing Mr. Vinning, when his host interrupted him with : 

“ I know what you would say, Mr. Chamfer ; but 
the fact is, I have taken Mr. Vinning — and, let me 
add, Mr. Vinning only — into my confidence in a matter 
that clearly calls for the judgment of more heads than 
one. And I say it without prejudice to the sterling 
good sense that has, as I anticipate from your visit, 
contributed to the consummation of my dearest hopes." 

" I rayther think I have been and managed that little 
business for you, sir," said the undertaker, with a self- 
satisfied chuckle, as he saw the colonel produce a 
cheque book from his pocket and seat himself by the 
side of his amanuensis at the writing table. 

" You saw this young woman — Downs," prompted 
Colonel Ravelyn, leaning back in his seat with folded 
hands and crossed legs. “ Saw her, and made known 
to her certain facts in connection with my son's pros- 
pects, which I deemed it consistent with my duty as 
his father to bring to her notice ; I think, Vinning, you 
have followed my action so far ? " 

" Clearly, sir," responded that gentleman, with an 
amused smile at the undertaker, after the manner of 
, one who should say : ' Under compulsion I admit it. 
But I can assure you the matter is of the least possible 
interest to me.' " 

" I told you. Colonel, I considered the money as good 
as banked," said Mr. Chamfer, gathering heart of 
grace and regarding his host with a sly twinkle in the 
corners of his piggy eyes. " For, though my task has 
been anything but a sina qua non (Mr. Chamfer 
doubtless meant "a sinecure"), I have succeeded as 
I might say beyond my most sanguinary hopes. You 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


143 


are right. I did see this young woman — on the very 
day I left you. And, to make a long story shorter, I 
succeeded in opening her eyes — and pretty wide, too — 
to the consequences that would follow if she was ill- 
advised enough to encourage your son in what I felt 
it my dooty. Colonel, to represent as his fit of temporary 
insanity.'’ 

'' Good — good," murmured the colonel approvingly, 
and toying with the cheque book on the table. Ex- 
cellent — go on ! " 

‘‘ But," went on the undertaker, with a stealthy 
glance at the seemingly intensely bored Mr. Vinning, 
'' I am bound to admit that though your remarkable 
knowledge of women's ways prepared me to expect a 
demand for increased compensation, I never for one 
minute imagined that she'd have the face to"^ ask for 
such a sum." 

‘‘Aha! Vinning!" cried the colonel, turning exult- 
ingly to the preoccupied young man at his side. 
“ Didn't I tell you as much — the hussy ! Well, Mr. 
Chamfer, and what was her price — eh? I was fully 
prepared for some such attempt at extortion on her 
part — most fully prepared for it. And, having in view 
the immensity of the stake, fully prepared to meet it." 

“ Of course, when she mentioned a sum of eight 
hundred pounds down, in notes," resumed the under- 
taker, addressing himself more particularly to the un- 
concerned Mr. Vinning, “ it upset the apple-cart, so to 
speak, altogether. And I up and told her that I couldn't 
go so far as to promise any such absurd sum as that, 
you know, without previously consulting yourself, 
Colonel." 

“ And why not, pray ? " demanded that officer, im- 
petuously. “ Surely, sir, you knew what was at stake. 
Good heavens, Mr. Chamfer ! " 

“ But I told her, at the same time, Colonel," added 


144 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


the undertaker, ‘‘ that I had very little doubt that if I 
represented the matter again to you '' 

'' — I would pay the amount down without the slight- 
est demur ! '' 

My words, exactly,’' remarked Mr. Chamfer, sur- 
prisedly. And upon this half promise on my part 
she there and then undertook to break off further ne- 
gotiations with Mr. Digby Ravelyn.” 

The colonel opened the cheque book and asked his 
young secretary for a pen. 

‘‘ I think Mr. Chamfer may be fairly credited with 
having carried out my wishes — Eh, Vinning?” 

“ I beg pardon,” replied that gentleman, abstract- 
edly. 

‘‘ I think Mr. Chamfer is fully entitled to his com- 
mission ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, yes, the commission, of course. I really for- 
got what the terms of the agreement were. Probably 
Mr. Chamfer has made some note of it? ” 

Mr. Chamfer produced his notebook, and, marking 
the leaf, handed it with the worst possible grace to the 
smiling amanuensis. 

H’m — sum down, on documentary evidence,” read 
Mr. Vinning, and looked up at the colonel inquiringly. 

Doc-u-men-tary,” echoed that gentleman, hesitat- 
ingly, and transferred the look to the undertaker. 

Mr. Chamfer paled to his lips. He took the book 
back from Mr. Vinning, and for a second or two ap- 
peared undecided what course to adopt. 

‘‘ Pd rayther not have had to divulge a confidential 
letter bearing on this case,” he said slowly, while pro- 
ducing an open envelope from his breast pocket. 

Whater-meantersay, seeming as it’s come into my 
possession by accident — dropped out of the young 
woman’s pocket when in the excitement of the moment 
she took her handkerchief out to hide her feelin’s, I 


BIGBY RAVELYN. 


MS 


was in honor bound to treat it as such, and return it — 
as of course I meant to do in good time. But, fore- 
seeing the possibility of your questioning my good 
faith,'’ added Mr. Chamfer, in an injured tone, and 
smoothing the letter out on his knee, '' I kept it as a 
guaranty of my truthfulness and — honor. This letter, 
Colonel Ravelyn, is from your son." 

“ From Digby ! " exclaimed the astonished colonel. 

Your son," confirmed the undertaker, with his 
eyes still upon Mr. Vinning. And is in response 
no doubt to her letter to him announcing the fact of the 
marriage bein' off." 

Colonel Ravelyn took the letter from Mr. Cham- 
fer, and, having read aloud with manifest satisfaction 
the lines, which our readers have already been made 
acquainted with, suffered Mr. Vinning to take it gently 
from his hands. 

I congratulate you, Mr. Chamfer," said the latter 
to the undertaker, and handing back the paper. ‘‘ Noth- 
ing could be more conclusive." 

Nothing," added the colonel, and proceeded to fill 
in the cheque. The young rascal ! But why has he 
not brought me the intelligence in person? Ashamed 
of himself, I suppose — as well he might. But it shan't 
be for want of funds," he went on, handing Mr. Cham- 
fer a cheque for personal services rendered, including 
the amount due to the carpenter's daughter for her 
services, likewise rendered to the Ravelyn family — 
and filling in a second in favor of his son. There ! 
Eh, Vinning — a receipt? Of course. If you please, 
Mr. Chamfer." 

If you please. Colonel," responded the undertaker, 
and signed the form, which the secretary had so 
thoughtfully provided. 

'' As a matter of precaution, gentleman, you will 


146 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


give me your word to keep silent on this transaction. 
Eh, Vinning? ’’ 

‘‘ As death itself, sir,’’ avowed the secretary, meekly. 

'' As the very grave,” promised the undertaker, 
solemnly. _ 

‘‘ Thank you,” said the colonel, very graciously. 
‘‘ And now — before we leave the subject — what about 
the boy — my son, Digby. Why has he not acted up 
to the spirit of his letter to her, and returned forth- 
with to Dumbton. What is it, Vinning? ” 

The concluding query was occasioned by that young 
gentleman having risen and gone on tiptoe to the door 
leading into the hall, where he remained in a listening 
attitude. 

Mice,” suggested the undertaker, provisionally. 

I see one as I came through the hall.” 

'' I fancied I heard some one knock,” explained the 
secretary, returning in the same stealthy manner to his 
seat. But it may have been only fancy. I beg your 
pardon. Colonel ? ” 

‘‘ I say, why doesn’t he return at once to Dumbton,” 
resumed Colonel Ravelyn. '' Why does he stop a whole 
month in town, when he has no attraction, and no 
means wherewith to stay ? ” 

Nay, that I can’t tell you, Colonel,” replied the 
undertaker, more uneasily than ever. He had drawn 
on his gloves, and, with an anxious look toward the 
door, was drumming impatiently upon the crown of 
his hat. When last heard of he was still stopping in 
his Pimlico lodgings in Dedborough Street, and likely 
to remain there as far as I can learn. But, mind you, 
he has never since he wrote her that letter addressed 
her either verbally or by note — that I can positively 
swear to.” 

Then I shall give him till next week,” settled the 
colonel, with an air of great resolution, and, plunging 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 14J 

the cheque book into his pocket. Eh ! Vinning — one 

week ? ’’ 

‘‘ Not a day more, sir.’’ 

And then I’ll— I’ll ” 

'' — Have done with him completely,” suggested the 
young man, airily. 

‘‘ Eh ! I was about to suggest fetching him back 
myself,” said the colonel. 

‘‘ Oh, quite so — as you like, sir,” smiled the accom- 
modating Mr. Vinning. ‘‘ I thought to anticipate your 
intentions. Fetch him back, of course, sir — by all 
means.” 

‘‘ Don’t you think it would be better to leave him 
for a while ? ” ventured Mr. Chamfer, anxiously. 
‘‘ Whater-meantersay, let him get over the shock of her 
refusal, and so’s to quieten any suspicions as to my — 
as to our — having had any hand in the business ? ” 
I’m not so sure but that you are right, after all — 
Eh, Vinning? ” 

I’m positively certain of it, sir,” acquiesced the 
secretary. 

'' So be it, then,” concluded the colonel, rising and 
ringing the bell. And now, Mr. Chamfer, you must 
be nearly famished. You will lunch with us? ” 

Sorry to be thought ungracious. Colonel, but I’ve 
brought my little ’uns down with me, for a blow — 
they’re outside in the coach — and we are due back again 
^almost immediate.” 

‘‘ Your children outside ! Oh, how very nice,” said 
'the colonel, affably. They must come in at once and 
lunch — Eh, Bindon? (in response to the butler’s re- 
proving frown). In the — hall. The servants’ hall,” 
he added to the relieved Bindon, under his breath, as 
they passed out on their way to the front entrance. 
“ Come along, Vinning. You must assist me in per- 


148 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


suading them to stay, and return by a later train. Why, 
bless my soul, where are they ? ” 

The driver was there ; so was the horse and so was 
the coach; but the Chamfer family had vanished as 
completely as though they had never been. 

It’s Miss Violet’s doings, sir,” explained the butler 
to the colonel, with a respectful grin. I heard her 
say she would take them around the house while they 
were waitin’. I see them in the dining-room not a min- 
ute ago.” 

Aha ! the merry little rogue ! ” cried the colonel, 
turning to the indignant Mr. Chamfer, and leading 
him by the arm in the direction of that apartment. 

What a capricious little woman she is ! ” 

They’re all alike,” growled the undertaker, intense- 
ly annoyed at this contretemps. ‘‘ So is Scagliola, my 
daughter — you never know any minute what she 
mayn’t do the next.” 

Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! ” laughed the colonel, to all appear- 
ance immensely amused. How very odd ! A thor- 
ough little daughter of Eve.” 

'' Of Elizabeth'' protested the undertaker, referring 
to his departed wife, and sending Mr. Vinning back into 
the library in a fit of suppressed laughter. 

Arrived in that apartment, with the door softly 
closed and locked behind him, the face of that young 
gentleman suddenly regained its wonted composure; 
and, after a few moments thought, he went softly to- 
ward the concealed door through which Colonel Rav- 
elyn had entered on his way from the drawing-room. 

Throwing open this door suddenly, and darting his 
hand in among the curtains, Mr. Vinning, after some 
slight search, succeeded in grasping some warm object 
within their heavy folds, and, pulling it forth, con- 
ducted it into the middle of the room. 

I thought I heard a knock,” said the imperturbable 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


149 


secretary, loosing his hold, and motioning the horrified 
Mr. Alfred Chamfer toward a seat ; though for the 
life of me, I couldn't locate the sound — sit down ! " 


CHAPTER XIV. 

VIOLET TROOPE WISHES SHE WERE QUEEN ELIZABETH. 

The way it came to pass that Mr. Alfred Chamfer 
found himself in his present somewhat questionable 
situation was very simple. The Chamfer family had 
remained outside in impatient waiting. 

The driver had dismounted from his seat, and, ad- 
justing a nosebag to the horse's head, was walking 
slowly around the perspiring animal and punching it 
playfully in the ribs, when a window in the many tur- 
rets above them was suddenly thrown open, and a 
sunny little head appeared amid a bower of ivy, and 
remained for some seconds in curious contemplation of 
the party below. 

'' Ahem ! " coughed the irrepressible Mr. Alfred 
Chamfer, violently nudging his brother into a sense of 
the situation, and nodding up at the imperious little 
face above. ‘‘ ‘ What light through yonder window 

breaks ? It is the East and Juliet is the sun ' " 

Have you come to see Colonel Ravelyn ? " called 
out the young lady, ignoring the apostrophe, and cran- 
ing her fair neck for a better view. 

‘‘ Hush, Alfred ! " cried his sister, checking him in 
some further outbreak of cheap pleasantry. Don't 
you see it's one of the family. Our Pa, miss, has called 

to see the colonel, and " 

Oh, has he? " responded Juliet from above. '' Wait 
a minute — I am coming down." 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


150 

Heavens ! I took her for the slavey ! exclaimed 
the disconcerted young man, while the party alighted 
from the coach in readiness to receive the young lady. 

I hope she won’t go and tell father.” 

‘‘If she don’t, I shall,” said his sister, spitefully. 
“ You’re not fit to go out with decent company — so 
you’re not ! ” 

“ That’s so,” retorted her brother, readily, “ or you 
wouldn’t have took me along with you — worse luck.” 

Further recrimination was checked by the appear- 
ance of Miss Violet Troope, in a ravishing boating 
costume, and attended by a bull terrier with white pa- 
thetic eyes and a meditative sniff. 

“ Papa — I mean my guardian — has been expecting 
Mr. Chamfer all the morning,” she said, shaking hands 
cordially with Miss Scagliola, and meeting the young- 
est Mr. Chamfer’s bold look with a freezing stare. 
“ But I’m sure they might have asked you in — where’s 
Bindon ? Oh, bother him ! Will you come with me 
and let me show you over the house ? ” 

“ If it’s not too much trouble, miss,” replied the de- 
lighted Miss Chamfer. “ I am sure it’s very kind of 
you — ain’t it, Thorry? My brother, Mr. Thorwaldsen 
Chamfer, Miss ” 

“ My name is Troope — Miss Violet Troope.” 

“ Mr. Alfred Chamfer pricked up his ears and re- 
garded the young lady with such marked interest, that 
she felt constrained to acknowledge his bow with a gra- 
cious little nod. 

“ So that’s the one he was to have married ! ” mut- 
tered he, as they followed their young cicerone into 
the hall. “ She’d make a stunner at the wine and spirit 
counter, and no mistake! But for your young man 
that always comes home to tea, I fancy she’s a bit too 
gaspy and feverish-like for peace and comfort.” 

In the hall they were met by a tall, gray-haired, light- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


151 

whiskered gentleman, of haughty mien and frigid blue 
eyes, whom the young lady had barely alluded to as 
Mr. Algernon Ravelyn, when the latter, with a conde- 
scending snort of recognition at the Chamfers, and a 
half nod of easy indifference at their young hostess, 
sauntered slowly away to the nearest window and re- 
mained there looking out. 

'' And that’s the other brother,” meditated Mr. 
Chamfer, still in the role of chorus. Chairman over 
half a dozen city companies, and worth goodness al- 
mighty knows how much. Well, I shouldn’t like to 
be his wife — whoever she is. Though it speaks a deal 
for the omniverousness of the sex when a woman can 
be found willing to tie herself to an iceberg like that 
for the rest of her natural life.” 

This,” exclaimed Miss Troope, with a comprehen- 
sive wave of her tiny hand, was the original banquet- 
ing-hall of the first Ravelyns. There, in the gallery 
above us sat the orchestra, and here where we are 
standing, at the head of the table, sat Queen Eliza- 
beth as the guest of the Sir Digby Ravelyn of that 
day.” 

Lor ! ” exclaimed Miss Scagliola Chamfer, and 
felt for the moment like running away. 

How I wish I had been Queen Elizabeth ! ” said 
the young lady, with a fierce little sigh. 

So do I,” remarked Mr. Alfred Chamfer, admir- 
ingly. 

Because then,” added Miss Troope, turning and 
regarding him fixedly, ‘‘ I could have boxed my 
courtiers’ ears when they made impertinent observa- 
tions.” 

Oh ! ” exclaimed the young man, a little foolishly, 
and collapsed. 

In that further recess,” went on Miss Troope, 
where Blazer is looking for a mouse, you will see 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


152 

the very patch of blood where fell Sir Amyas Ravelyn 
when defending his wife and children against the 
Cromwellian soldiers. Over the fireplace is a portrait 
in oils of his son’s wife — a Miss Mary Meadowrue, 
whose marriage (she being a woman of low degree, 
and the daughter of a stanch Roundhead), lost her 
husband his title at the Restoration.” 

'' I shouldn’t have minded losing my head into the 
bargain for one such as her,” remarked Mr. Alfred 
Chamfer, in whom the name and a certain resemblance 
to the joiner’s daughter had suddenly kindled a flame 
of enthusiasm. 

Miss Troope surveyed him for a moment with an 
approach to interest in her hard-looking eyes, and 
then whistling to the preoccupied Blazer, led the way 
into the vestibule adjoining. From thence the party 
ascended the grand staircase into the rooms above — 
Miss Troope leading, and Miss Chamfer following, 
and calculating to a nicety the number of single-width 
yards necessary for a dress of a similar pattern to that 
which so became their charming young guide. 

''There’s Papa!” exclaimed Miss Troope, pausing 
on a landing before the portrait of a handsome young 
cavalry officer, in whose dashing bearing and brilliant 
eyes there breathed a world of derring-do. 

" And there he is again — afterward — when he was 
married.” 

The same officer — in the same uniform — but less 
buoyant of look and exceedingly sparse of hair on the 
top of his head. 

"And that’s Mama! — do you think her like me? 
(to Mr. Alfred Chamfer, v/ho was about to turn his 
back on the rather determined young lady in ringlets). 
She was considered a great beauty in her day ! ” 

" You might have sat for her yourself, miss. It’s 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 1 53 

your dead image ; eyes — nose — mouth — everything. 
It’s perfect ! ” 

He was right. She might indeed have sat for it. 
And with a last lingering look of sympathy at the 
somewhat cowed-looking officer, they commenced to 
put this and that together in their minds as they passed 
silently on. 

Papa and Colonel Ravelyn were brother officers 
years ago,’' she explained to Miss Scagliola,; in con- 
fidence. And when Papa died, he left myself and his 
fortune in trust to the colonel until I came of age. 
That will be next year,” she added, triumphantly, and 
then I’m going to do just as I like ! ” 

Do you play billiards ? ” she inquired suddenly of 
the astonished Mr. Alfred Chamfer, and extending 
to him her open cigarette-case. 

‘‘ Eh ! — Oh, yes. Rather ! ” stammered that young 
man, adding, by a natural impulse, Do you ? ” 

“ Rather ! ” she echoed, with emphasis, I love it. 
I’d give you points, and play you now, if we only had 
the time. He taught me,” she added, indicating a 
crayon likeness of our hero on the wall. ‘‘ You know 
him, don’t you ? ” 

Mr. Alfred Chamfer confessed to a slight acquaint- 
ance with Mr. Dibgy Ravelyn. 

‘‘ Go straight on ! ” cried out Miss Troope to Mr. 
Thorwaldsen Chamfer and his sister, as they were 
about to rejoin her after an inspection of the colonel's 
bust in plaster. We will follow after you.” 

Of course,” she resumed to her companion, you 
have heard all about his leaving his home, and know his 
motive for doing so ? ” 

^ I have heard father say something about it,” was 
the cautious reply. 

‘‘ So I imagined. And — tell me — does he see her 
very often. You know who I mean — this woman?” 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


154 


'' Well, to be straightforward with you,’’ replied Mr. 
Chamfer, who was now as much at his ease as if he 
had been in the society of his favorite barmaid, '' and, to 
tell you the plain truth, I don’t think they’ve been near 
one another for almost a month. But I’m only going 
by what father said to her over there. I’m not in their 
secrets you know.” 

Ah, I knew there had been a quarrel. I guessed 
as much by his manner. Oh, I am so glad.” 

I am not surprised at it,” he murmured, reflect- 
ively. 

''You are not surprised at it!” she flared forth, 
indignantly. How dare you say it, sir ? What has 
Mr. Ravelyn’s business got to do with me? I meant 
on his family’s account I was glad.” 

'' Of course you did,” said the young man, quietly. 

That’s what I meant.” 

I beg your pardon,” she said, softly, with a stealthy 
side glance at him as they entered on an immense per- 
spective of corridor. But if you should happen to see 
him again when you return to town, you might — you 
might ” 

'' I might pass him the time of day,” suggested Mr. 
Alfred Chamfer, in quite a casual way ; “ and perhaps 
tell him I had been down to Dumbton on business, and 
met yourself quite accidental like — as indeed I have — 
and that I’d got a message for him. Then, perhaps, 
he’d tell me ” 

— to mind your own business ! ” she snapped 
him up, bridling suddenly as the cruel little mouth 
corners came down and her eyes lit up. 

Exactly,” returned the imperturbable little man, 
with that ready resource born of long practice over 
metropolitan counters. '' Exactly, miss, only you an- 
ticipated me.” 

'' Serve me right,” he added to himself, for offer- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


ISS 


ing myself as a go-between to do that good angel harm. 
I wonder if they had a quarrel, and what the reason of 
it was. Perhaps it's all through this one — the little 
she-tiger! She may love him — perhaps she does, in 
her gaspy, feverish-like way. But to me it's more like 
the longing of a woman toward a sealskin sacque that's 
slipping out of her hands into another's; and, there- 
fore, of more value in her eyes, than it would ever 
be upon her own back." 

They proceeded in silence until they came up with 
Miss Chamfer and her brother at the end of the cor- 
ridor, which overlooked a broad graveled walk over 
whose surface. Miss Troope was at pains to inform 
the shocked Miss Chamfer, the ghostly footfalls of the 
murdered Sir Amyas were distinctly heard to travel 
whenever death hovered around the head of a devoted 
Ravelyn. 

Then they were taken into the Green bedroom ; and 
from thence into the Red bedroom ; and the Blue bed- 
room ; the bedroom in which Sir Jocelyn was born, and 
Sir William burned ; and finally into the great state bed- 
room wherein Queen Elizabeth had slept, and out of 
whose latticed windows she had, one fine morning, ex- 
changed some risque pleasantries with her host on the 
walk below. 

Descending by means of a small winding staircase 
into the grounds their young hostess escorted them 
along the terraces to that portion of the lawn where, 
amid a grove of flowering rhododendrons, the Ravelyn 
mausoleum uplifted its head of granite finials in all its 
substantial ugliness of design. 

Mr. Thorwaldsen Chamfer, having carefully in- 
spected the pile, and given it out as his professional 
opinion that there was not the least indication of any 
settlement in its ponderous proportions, the party 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


156 

made their way back to Ravelyn House, and once more 
entered the Hall, en route for the kitchens. 

Here, however, Mr. Alfred Chamfer lingered so long 
over the portrait of sweet Mistress Meadowrue, with 
her demure, dimpled face and Puritan garb, that when 
he turned to follow the others, he found himself, to 
his dismay, the sole occupant of the old hall. 

Hoping to catch up with the others before they were 
completely lost in the wilderness of rooms within, he 
hurried into the vestibule, and, seeing that it was 
empty, made for the first open door facing him. This 
brought him into the drawing-room — an apartment so 
inordinately extensive that, as he proceeded down its 
length, Mr. Alfred Chamfer counted no less than four 
fireplaces and thirteen windows, besides enough statu- 
ary and bric-a-brac to have stocked a small museum. 

Extended upon a sofa in an angle of this room, the 
young man came upon the sleeping form of Major 
Wolferton, with the truant Blazer coiled up on his lap, 
and snoring in unison with his temporary master ; and 
he essayed to pass the couple on tiptoe without dis- 
turbing their slumbers. In doing so, however, he was 
unfortunate enough to move a chair, and he turned 
quickly, with a very red face, to explain his presence. 
But the major still slept on. 

The dog, however, had awakened at the noise ; but, 
with a look of kindly inquiry at the startled young man, 
again dropped its head upon the major’s breast, and, 
with a long-drawn sigh of intense relief, resumed the 
interrupted trend of its dreams. 

Still on tiptoe, with his eyes fixed upon the sleeping 
figures, and backing in and out among the furniture 
like a river tug in foggy weather, Mr. Alfred Chamfer 
arrived at the end of the drawing-room and opposite a 
curtained recess — ^behind which, as he rightly con- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. IS7 

jectured, a doorway would relieve the major of his 
presence. 

Drawing this curtain aside, the young man was in 
the act of fumbling for a handle, when his father's 
voice, raised as if in angry protest, fell upon his ears, 
and he remained, instead, to listen. 

I don't wonder at it at all," remarked Mr. Vinning, 
lightly, upon hearing from Mr. Alfred Chamfer an 
account of his late wanderings, and the accidental part- 
ing from the others that had led to it. I am losing 
my way here every minute of the day, and finding my- 
self in all sorts of wrong rooms and places. I declare 
it's as puzzling in its way as a natural history mu- 
seum. 

Or 'Ampton Court Maze," suggested Mr. Alfred 
Chamfer, entering with a broad grin into the humor 
of the joke, as barely indicated by a slight twitching 
at the corners of the secretary's mouth. 

‘‘ Or Hampton Court Maze," admitted Mr. Vinning, 
condescendingly. '' But, at the same time, I extremely 
regret not only that I should unwittingly have treated 
you with such scant courtesy, but that you should have 
been kept in the position you were through any mis- 
taken sense of delicacy on your part. For the colonel 
would have been delighted to see you, my dear sir — 
delighted, I assure you. You heard the contents of the 
letter ? " 

Mr. Alfred Chamfer was taken off his guard by the 
directness of the question, and confessed that he had 
heard the colonel read out the document referred to. 

'' But of course it was nothing new to you," said 
Mr. Vinning, insinuatingly. '' Your father's business 
secrets are the common property of the family ? " 

Of course they are," replied the young man, mak- 
ing a virtue of necessity for once in his life, and wish- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


158 

ing the secretary would refer to any other subject under 
the sun. 

What a diplomat he would have macle, sir — your 
father, I mean,'' continued Mr. Vinning, screwing up 
his right eye and focusing his listener with the left. 
‘‘ That little affair of the colonel's son was conducted 
throughout in a manner quite worthy of Talleyrand in 
his best days ! " 

I don't know so much about the diplomat," 
answered the young man, a little sulkily ; for, the fore- 
going eulogy notwithstanding, he knew intuitively that 
his own opinion about his father's qualifications as a 
minister was fully shared by his companion; and this 
knowledge, following upon his recent admission in 
regard to the letter, was not calculated to improve their 
relations. A diplomat has got to have something 
of a polished surface about him — which father ain't. 
But as a confidential inquiry agent, now, I'll allow he'd 
make a gem of the first water." 

Possibly," returned the amanuensis, blandly. 
'' But I am afraid in one respect he would find it diffi- 
cult to do justice to that profession." 

You mean as regards his temper? " 

‘‘ Not so much that as as uncertain memory — and 
that more especially for dates." 

Why, if there's one thing on this earth he's any 
good for at all," cried the surprised young man, “ it 
is his wonderful accuracy about time! I never knew 
him to miss an appointment yet. Besides, in the under- 
taking business, it's one of the first requisites! How 
would we look making a professional call a day too 
soon ? " 

'' I can't imagine anything worse," replied the other, 
amusedly, unless, perhaps, it was your arriving a day 
too late." 

'' Just so," rejoined Mr. Alfred Chamfer, triumph- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 1 59 

antly. And that’s why I say with all his faults 
father’s a regular ‘ Big Ben ’ for time.” 

'' This point of memory,” resumed Mr. Vinning, 
'' suggested itself to my mind when looking over the 
letter to which we have just been referring. Your 
father was good enough to inform Colonel Ravelyn that 
he had called upon the young girl the very day on 
which they met at the ' Warriors’ Club.’ ” 

” The deuce he did ! ” cried Mr. Alfred Chamfer, 
unguardedly. 

“ And that, on the strength of his representations. 
Miss Downs was induced to communicate her decision 
to Mr. Digby Ravelyn, who retorted by sending her 

the letter which we have been discussing ” 

'' I beg pardon,” interrupted the undertaker’s son, 
regarding the other with the warmest admiration, but 
what a lawyer you’d have made ! ” 

“ In common law I might possibly have succeeded,” 
replied the other, diffidently. But in criminal proce- 
dure I am afraid I should have made a corresponding 
failure.” 

Criminal — criminal ! ” echoed the young man, 
coloring violently. ‘‘ What has this got to do with 
criminal matters ? ” 

'' Oh, nothing at all in the world. Good gracious 
me, Mr. Chamfer, what possible connection could this 
letter have in your mind with Old Bailey ? ” 

'' It wasn’t the letter so much as the governor I was 
thinking of,” replied the other, hurriedly. '' I hope 
there has been nothing wrong in what he has been 
doing? ” 

Wrong! ” exclaimed the amanuensis, in great as- 
tonishment. You misunderstand me. In alluding to 
dates I merely had it in my mind to point out the 
fact of your father having failed to notice a very 
curious coincidence in connection with this letter. If 


l6o DIGBY RAVELYN. 

you will permit me, I will explain to you what I mean. 
In the first place, the date of your father's visit to the 
* Warriors' ' (I have it here in my diary) corresponds 
with the date of the letter." 

Well, and what's the matter with the date? " 

‘‘ Absolutely nothing ! Both dates are correct be- 
yond dispute: And unless, as I hinted just now, your 
father's memory is unreliable, the interview with the 
colonel, the interview with Miss Downs, and the writ- 
ing of that letter were the transactions of one day! 
Quick work that, Mr. Chamfer — even for your 
father!" 

‘‘ Perhaps Mr. Digby was wrong in the day," haz- 
arded the dismayed young man. 

‘‘ Scarcely," returned the secretary, who seemed 
within the last few minutes to have asserted himself 
to an unusual extent. “ It corresponded with the post- 
mark on the envelope." 

Oh, sir — Mr. Vinning ! " cried the young man, in 
accents of genuine terror. “ What will be the upshot 
of all this ? What does it mean ? " 

‘‘ It might mean, in the hands of some unscrupulous 
person — Mr. Digby Ravelyn, for instance — that your 
father had nothing whatsoever to do with the quarrel 
that separated this young couple." 

Oh ! would you mind reading that letter over again 
from memory," gasped Mr. Alfred Chamfer, as the 
fact of his having met Mary Downs on that same 
evening came suddenly^upon him. 

'' Certainly," replied the secretary, obligingly, and 
recited it without missing a word. 

‘‘ That's it — I understand it all now ! " shouted Mr. 
Alfred Chamfer, slapping his leg with tremendous 
force, and springing from his seat. '' He must have 
followed us, and seen us together. It’s all through me 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


l6l 

— poor unfortunate me I But I’ll right her — Vl\ right 

the both of them. I’ll ’’ 

He was making for the door in a condition of wild 
excitement, when the secretary slipped before him, and, 
with one hand on the knob and the other extended to- 
ward him, barred the way. 

One minute, Mr. Chamfer,” said he quietly, and 
looking the other for the first time straight in the eyes. 

You appear to have quite forgotten your father in the 
excitement of the moment.” 

My father ! ” returned the other, defiantly, and still 
endeavoring to pass. “ What has he got to do with 
it?” 

Everything in the world,” replied Mr. Vinning, 
soothingly. ‘‘ For, in a moment of abstraction, appar- 
ently, he appears to have anticipated the success of his 
mission, and — and — realized.” 

‘‘ I’ll make him give it up this very minute — I’ll go 
straight to the colonel ! I’ll call on Mr. Digby the mo- 
ment I get back. Here, let me out, I say ! ” 

“ Very well, sir,” said the other, quietly, and unlock- 
ing the door. You are the best judge as to what the 
result of such an exposure would be.” 

The result!” 

I mean as regards the professional standing of your 
firm, when the proceedings, which Mr. Digby Ravelyn 
will undoubtedly institute, become known.” 

'' It will mean ruin all around,” groaned the unfor- 
tunate young man, while his eyes rolled despairingly 
over the dusty old tomes in their glass prisons. '' It 
will mean hard labor, perhaps, for him, and eternal 
disgrace to us. That’s what it will all mean with- 
out a doubt. He has roughed me up the wrong way 
times out of number, until I’ve felt I could almost have 
raised my hand to him. But — there! he is my father 
for all that, and I wouldn’t like to see him come to 


i 62 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


harm through any doings of mine. Besides, after all, 
this business concerns the Ravelyn family — don't it?"' 

‘‘ Exclusively," replied Mr. Vinning, softly. 

Then let 'em find it out for themselves. I'm mum ! " 
Let 'em," echoed the secretary, accommodatingly. 

Why should you interfere ? " 

And might I ask, sir," resumed Mr. Alfred Cham- 
fer, almost tearfully, ‘‘ what you propose to do about 
this — this letter ? " 

‘‘ I, Mr. Chamfer ! " exclaimed the other, seemingly 
astounded at the irrelevance of the query, ‘‘ What in 
the name of Providence can I have to do with a private 
transaction between my master and your father? My 
dpar sir, I never had the least intention of broaching 
the matter to anyone living, and would not have done 
so even now, had you not drawn me on. Besides, re- 
member, you may be injuring your worthy father, by 
suggesting that he had not acted honestly in this mat- 
ter " 

‘‘ 1 suggested ! " 

‘‘ Surely, Mr. Chamfer, you don't wish to insinuate 
that the suggestion came from me ? " 

Then you will give me your word that what we 
have been talking about won't go any further ? " 

Granted/' was all the other said, as he grapsed the 
young man's hand and shook it reassuringly. Then 
they left the room together. 

There's one thing," thought Mr. Alfred Chamfer 
to himself as they passed through the hall in search of 
the others ; if father ever tries to come any of his 
hanky-panky tricks on me again, I flatter myself I have 
got the whip hand over him. 

There's another thing," he added later on, as he 
glanced at the pale face of the self-contained young 
man beside him ; ‘‘ if ever it suits that Johnny's turn to 
make use of that letter, he's got the whip hand over 


BIGBY RAVELYN. 


163 


CHAPTER XV. 

MR. CHAMFER BECOMES A PROMOTER. 

In the dining-room they found the colonel, Miss 
Troope, the undertaker, and Mr. Algernon Ravelyn in 
animated conversation, the colonel indulging in his 
usual ponderous raillery at the expense of his ward, 
while Miss Chamfer and her brother stood by, smiling 
nervous approval. 

Mr. Algernon Ravelyn had drawn the undertaker 
aside, and in a throaty drawl was expatriating on the 
merits of a proposed company for the importation of 
Swedish granite for architectural and other purposes ; 
and Mr. Chamfer was paying silent heed, with an ex- 
pression of more than usual interest on his pallid fea- 
tures. 

'' We have already succeeded in getting General Sir 
Foundersby-Sheres and Major the Honorable Rupert 
MacBryde on the Board,” concluded the future chair- 
man, handing Mr. Chamfer a provisional prospectus, 
with the air of one bestowing royal letters-patent. 

Names in themselves sufficiently distinguished to 
guarantee the solvency of any undertaking. The 
shares will be in the market early in July, when we 
hope to proceed almost immediately to allotment. How 
are you, Vinning? By the by, Mr. Chamfer, let me 
introduce you to the secretary pro tern. — Oh, you’ve 
met before, have you ? Colonel Ravelyn has kindly lent 
him to us for the occasion.” 

“ Is he goin’ to be the secretary? ” asked Mr. Cham- 
fer, bowing off the bright-eyed young man with a look 
of profound distrust. 


164 


GBY RAVELYN. ’ 


Pro tern,'' repeated Mr. Ravelyn, noting the look, 
and acknowledging Mr. Vinning's grateful bow with 
a nod of insolent condescension. Mr. Vinning is thor- 
oughly versed in all matters involved in company pro- 
motion, having served under MacBryde in a similar 
capacity on several occasions. But being, I regret to 
say, of a somewhat easygoing — shall I say indolent — 
disposition, Mr. Vinning, he has lately preferred a life 
of rural inactivity to the more exciting pursuits of 
Threadneedle Street.'' 

I hope Mr. Chamfer will see his way to taking 
up some shares with us," insinuated the secretary pro 
tern, with an engaging smile. 

'' Mr. Chamfer has already promised us his valuable 
co-operation both on the Board and as a shareholder," 
remarked Mr. Ravelyn, in a tone of voice that left the 
undertaker no loophole for retreat. '' His vast experi- 
ence in a business that has granite for its mainstay 
will be of incalculable assistance to us in our venture. 
I am writing Sir Foundersby-Sheres and MacBryde 
to-night, Vinning, confirming your appointment, and 
you must be prepared to leave almost immediately ; for 
Bagster tells me that he has already secured offices in 
Barbican, and that there is no further time to be lost." 

An exceedingly astute, long-headed young fellow, 
that," added Mr. Algernon Ravelyn to the bewildered 
undertaker, when the secretary had bowed his thanks 
and withdrawn. Exceedingly astute, and exceeding- 
ly long-headed, though it doesn't always pay to let 
these fellows know it. I picked him up in the city one 
day by the merest chance, and, having transferred him 
over to MacBryde, he found him so useful in his deal- 
ings with discontented shareholders that there is no 
saying to what position the lad might not have risen 
had not Colonel Ravelyn — my father — met him at Mac- 
Bryde's office and carried him away with him to Dumb- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 1 65 

ton as his amanuensis. Bought him out, sir — body and 
soul ! ’’ 

'' And now he’s going back again ? ” 

As secretary. Hitherto he has been employed only 
in the capacity of confidential clerk.” 

And how does the colonel like parting with him? ” 

'' Not at all. But Colonel Ravelyn, I am pleased to 
say, is always prepared to sink personal considerations 
for the public and his son’s weal. ’Afternoon, Wolfer- 
ton ! Let me introduce you to a fellow-director of the 
‘ Anglo-Swedish Granitic and Feldspar Co-operative 
Association, Limited.’ He votes with us and Mac- 
Bryde on all occasions — which gives us the necessary 
quorum.” 

Yers — yers — yers,” from the major. “ But, I say, 
isn’t he a business man, you know ? I thought we didn’t 
want business men on the Board ? ” 

Precisely. But then, you see, Mr. Chamfer is al- 
ready on a board ” 

'' The St. Bridgett’s Burial Board,” explained the 
undertaker. 

‘‘ And that in a measure qualifies him, Wolferton, 
don’t you know.” 

I’m beginning to hate boards ! ” cried the major, 
with sudden and surprising animation. '' The last one 
you put me on nearly finished me altogether. The 
wine was simply too awful ; and that fellow Barnstone, 
who wanted to know all about salaries and bonuses 
and accounts and things, was worse than a campaign. 
I really hope you’ll give us some better grub this time, 
old fellow, or ’pon my ” 

‘‘The offices of the ‘Anglo-Swedish Granitic and 
Feldspar Co-operative Association, Limited,’ are next 
door but one to the ‘ Wilberforce,’ ” observed the pros- 
pective chairman, in a manner so conclusive and with 


i66 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


a meaning so obvious, that even the sleepy major had 
reason to feel convinced. 

If you should happen to want another gentleman 
on the Board,’’ suggested Mr. Chamfer, a little indis- 
creetly, ‘‘ I can just put you on to the very man. A 
thoroughly conscientious, pushing ” 

— ’Heaven’s sake, no ! ” broke in the chairman, with 
a movement of genuine alarm, while the major dropped 
his eyeglass in a broad stare of horror. Time enough 
for those sort of people when we get the thing floated 
— Eh, Wolferton?” 

Yers — yers — rather!” agreed that gallant officer, 
with a knowing leer. We used to have ’em in the 
War Office once upon a time — these pushing, con- 
scientious fellows — until we ( Haw 1 — haw ! — haw 1 ) 
thoroughly and conscientiously pushed ’em out ! Eh, 
Colonel? ” (to their host, who had quietly joined them 
and overheard the remark). 

I am happy, sir, to be able to say that I have de- 
voted a considerable portion of time toward that very 
desirable object,” observed the colonel, proudly. 
‘‘ Though I am bound to admit with some regret that 
the most of them are now on the press. But, gentle- 
men,” he went on, with a reassumption of his grandilo- 
quent manner of speech, '' as we are not to have the — 
ah — pleasure of Mr. Chamfer’s society at lunch — he 
being anxious, for urgent business reasons, to return 
to town — we will give the dining-room over to the 
servants while we escort him to the hall and wish him 
godspeed.” 

But, remember, sir,” he added, in the undertaker’s 
ear, '' I shall expect to see you at the ' Warriors’ ’ this 
day week, as arranged.” 

You may depend upon me. Colonel,” said Mr. 
Chamfer, shaking hands with his host, and then with 
the others — but with so apparent an air of self-con- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


167 


scious guilt that for the moment he might have been 
taking his final leave of the governor and warders be- 
fore following the footman out into the execution shed. 

“ Charmed — yers — charmed/' murmured Major 
Wolferton to the Chamfer family generally, and mo- 
tioning them a drowsy farewell. Hope to have the 
pleasure of meeting you again some day. Yers — yers! 
I say, Algernon," he added to his co-director, when 
the others had withdrawn, “ where on earth did your 
governor pick up that howling cad ? And what in the 
name of common precaution made you put him on the 
Board?" 

'' Money," replied the other, shortly. In the city 
they say he has no end of vested property — and his 
name alone is a power in matters granitic. But, look 
here. I've been writing all the morning and want a run 
before lunch. Will you stroll out with me, and we’ll 
talk it over in the fresh air." 

‘‘ Yers — yers," assented his friend, reluctantly. 
'' And we can turn him out whenever it suits us, can't 
we? Yers — fresh air — yers. Let’s go over the 
stables.” 

While paying their last respects to the colonel and 
his ward, and during the return journey through the 
grounds, not a word had passed between the Chamfers 
in reference to recent events. 

Mr. Chamfer, with his gaze turned aside on the 
shifting beauties of the sylvan prospect, might to all 
intents and purposes have been sitting for his portrait — 
so unreal and stiff was his pose, and so unpleasing the 
settled look in his calculating eyes. Seldom since they 
first held him in their memory had his sons and daugh- 
ter seen him so preoccupied as he appeared to them 
during that short drive from Ravelyn House to its 
lodge. But the slamming of the gates behind them, 
and the increased speed induced by the less devious 


i68 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


high road, served to arouse him from the state of 
ruminant gloom into which he had fallen, and, turn- 
ing his eyes upon his offspring in succession, he leaned 
forward and addressed them in accents at once both 
grave, and, for him, remarkably to the point. 

What IVe got to say,’’ said he, motioning to his 
youngest son to listen, “ concerns yourself as much, 
if not more, than it does any of the rest of us; it will 
be to your interest to hear every word I’m about to 
speak. Whater-meantersay, seein’ as it’s an unpleasant 
subject, according to the way you may all choose to 
look at it, why the sooner it’s settled and done with 
the better.” 

'' Father, you’re not ” 

Yes, Thorry, I am! Flesh and blood can’t stand 
the shrinkage that’s been going on in the business for 
the last twelve months. While I’m looking at Vin- 
ning’s hand it is always reminding me of the shrinkage 
in the undertaking line — only it’s got so far that it’ll 
average not only a little finger of our usual man, 
but about half of his carcass. As I said, what’s more, 
I ain’t a-goin’ to stand it. I’m selling out to Blagworth 
to-morrow. Yourself and Alfred and Fewkes, and all 
— that’s the conditions.” 

'' And yourself ? ” 

I’m joining the Board of the Granitic Company as 
Managing Director — I hope.” 

The Board of the ‘ Anglo-Swedish Granitic and 

Feldspar Co-operative Association ’ ” 

'' ‘ Limited.’ I am — there’s the prospectus ! ” 

Miss Chamfer burst into tears. 

“ Don’t take on so, Scaggs I ” cried her father, great- 
ly concerned. He had never seen her in tears since 
she wore short clothes. '' Come, hold up, I say. You’ve 
got to stop along with me and keep house, the same 
as before. The same as before, Scaggs — d’ye hear? 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


169 

But it won’t be in Great Lyddell Street, my dear. It 
will be down in the country this time — by Clapham 
Junction or thereabouts — with a large house all to our- 
selves, and hot and cold water laid on. Just fancy, my 
dear!” 

‘‘ And the houses — the freehold property — the — 
the quarries ? ” sobbed the inconsolable Miss Chamfer. 

They’ll all go. Every single, blessed one of ’em,” 
replied the father, determinedly. '' And the proceeds, 
together with every single available penny of cash 
I’ve got after payin’ debts, goes into the company with 
them. I’ve made up my mind on it, I tell you. And 
when I makes up my mind to a thing, not a whole regi- 
ment of fiery, untamed bosses and bulls won’t drag me 
out of it ! ” 

There’s money in that company,’’ continued the 
elder Chamfer, in calmer and more reassuring tones, 
and mopping his forehead with his handkerchief. 

There’s money in it beyond a doubt. I seem to feel 
it by instinct, so to speak. Besides, I’m sick and tired 
to death of scraping and slaving, and meetin’ bills and 
fightin’ everybody, all to no purpose. Whater-meant- 
ersay, there’s a chance for all of us to sit quiet for 
once in a way, and have someone else to make the 
money for us 1 You two boys, along with Blagworth — 
him taking all risk ; and myself on the Board, votin’ 
my own supplies and ready, at a moment’s notice, to 
sell and clear — by the by, you didn’t let on to the young 
lady what I’d come about, did you, Thorry ? ” he added, 
suddenly dropping his voice, as his youngest son turned 
his head aside in moody thought. 

'' Not a word, father.” 

Nor Scaggs ? ” 

Trust her for that 1 ” 

''Nor him?'' persisted Mr. Chamfer, in ungram- 
matical allusion to his youngest born. How came 


170 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


he to get separated from the rest of you? I noticed 
he came into the room with that there young 'manuen- 

SIS. 

Oh, I can’t answer for him. He lost himself going 
through the rooms.” 

I wish he’d lose himself forever and a day,” 
growled the undertaker, with an uneasy glance at the 
unconscious object of his misgivings. I feel some- 
how as if he was goin’ to land us all in trouble one of 
these days.” 

'' Don’t you worry yourself about him, father,” said 
the eldest son, reassuringly. '' Alfred’s right enough so 
long as he is left to himself and kept out of our private 
little concerns. But don’t anger him any more than 
you can possibly help, if you want to get this affair 
of young Ravelyn’s over without fuss or trouble. 
Alfred’s like one of them patent let-me-down chair 
bedsteads. Practicable enough as a chair to sit on or 
a bed to lie on ; but once you start to improve on the 
combination, or shut it up the wrong way for short- 
ness, you never know what it’s going to turn into next, 
nor how many different ways you’re going to fall over 
it in a day.” 

This was a somewhat lengthy discourse from a young 
man who, as a rule, was taciturnity personified. But 
it was not without its effect on the undertaker, coming 
from the quarter it did. 

'' What a pity it was you never wrote a book, 
Thorry,” said he, smiling paternal approval on the 
blushing young man. If you’d been born in poorer 
circumstances, or I’d driven you out into the streets 
among bad company to starve, you might have been 
an author by now — there’s no tellin’. But I believe 
you’ve got to be chronically hungry to do it proper.” 

During the remainder of the journey to the railway 
station, and from thence to the London terminus from 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


171 

whence they had started, the conversation was solely 
confined to business matters, and more particularly to 
those steps which it would be necessary to adopt in 
order to transfer the undertaking and monumental busi- 
ness en bloc to the more prosperous house of Blag- 
worth in Great Lyddell Street. 


CHAPTER XVL 

MR. BARBELOW ON COLLABORATION. 

Just one week following the day on which the Cham- 
fers had made their memorable incursion on the Rav- 
elyn doniains, the unhappy youth in whose interests, the 
undertaker had proved himself so zealous was seated 
despondently over the fragmentary remains of a late 
tea, when to him entered Mr. Barbelow, in a condition 
of great excitement, and with a parcel of soiled manu- 
script in his arms. 

I have found it out at last ! cried he, in an un- 
usually jubilant voice, and dumping the parcel down 
before our hero, at the imminent risk of a holocaust 
among the crockery-ware. Fve got the weak spot — 
the flaw that keeps sending this pile of stuff back to us 
with such exasperating regularity. But it's not going 
to happen again — not if I know it." 

''Well?" queried the young man, tilting back his 
chair, and surveying his partner with a greater appear- 
ance of interest than he had done for many a day. 

" Well, I have just found out the weak spot, I tell 
you — the weak spots I should say — for I could put my 
finger on dozens of 'em, if I only had hands enough. 
Good heavens! To think that we might have gone 


1T2 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


on sending out this work month after month, and have 
had it fired back at us in the way it has, only for this 
most fortunate discovery. Look here ! ’’ he went on, 
seating himself by the side of his young companion, 
and speaking with great impressiveness. ‘‘ Do you re- 
member my calling on Battrum Brothers on the morn- 
ing after they refused ‘ Myrtle Towers ’ (the second 
refusal, I mean), and my asking Battrum to give me 
some reason for his seemingly unjustifiable conduct in 
doing so ? ’’ 

‘‘ I do — I — I am ashamed to say.’’ 

‘‘ But / wasn’t ashamed to speak about it — was I ? 
If business matters were conducted on the principle 
of being ashamed of your partners, where would you 
stand in regard to the world — eh? Why, nowhere. 
Well, Battrum refused me the information, didn’t he? 
And I told him that if he ran his business on these 
short-sighted lines he wasn’t fit to conduct a tram-car, 
or words to the same effect — and it nearly ended in an 
assault and battery — didn’t it ? ” 

It did.” 

Phew ! dear me, and to think if he’d only opened 
his mouth and pointed out the discrepancies in the 
manuscript, I could have settled the whole thing for 
him in less than ten minutes ! You recollect all that? ” 

Again I have to repeat that I am ashamed to be 
able to recall these facts. I considered your line of pro- 
cedure from a literary point of view perfectly unjusti- 
fiable.” 

Literary point of view ! ” exclaimed Mr. Barbelow, 
throwing up his hands with a gesture of tremendous 
astonishment. ” Literary point of view ! What in the 
name of Shakespeare has literature got to do with 
bringing out a book ? ” 

Go on,” sighed the young man, drooping his head, 
dejectedly. I give it up. You were good enough to 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


173 


take a leading part in the placing of the MS., and, 
at this late hour, I am certainly not going to interfere 
with your arrangements.’' 

Then I called on Battrum’s reader,” resumed Mr. 
Barbelow. Employed a detective first to find him out ; 
but I found him eventually after some considerable 
difficulty, and then I offered him a sum down and a 
similar amount to follow if he’d reconsider his decision 
and get the thing through.” 

‘‘ Quite so,” groaned his companion, '' and that did 
end in an assault and battery — and humble apologies 
on your part afterward.” 

So it did,” assented the other, less gleefully than 
heretofore, and rapidly turning over the pages of the 
MS. before him. Which led to my remarking at the 
time that I’d come to believe that the rascals were hon- 
est after all — I am not disputing the fact. Then for 
the first time it occurred to me to look into the manu- 
script itself and endeavor to discover where the defect 
lay; and I had only got half way into Chapter II., 
when, heigh presto ! the whole thing flashed upon me 
like an electric searchlight. You have been trying to be 
humorous ! ” 

Now, don’t fly off at a tangent, my young friend. 
I meant no harm. I am only giving you my calm, dis- 
passionate opinion as a man of business, and one who 
has, moreover, read up every book within three miles 
for pointers — and every critique bearing thereon. 
You have been trying to be humorous ! Don’t attempt 
to deny it.” 

'' Probably I have,” said Digby Ravelyn, blushing 
guiltily under the pitying glance of his discriminating 
friend. ‘‘ You can’t always be in a murderous mood 
even in a shocker.” 

‘‘ Never mind, my lad,” said the old man, laying 
his hand in kindly exhortation on his companion’s arm. 


174 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


You meant well, no doubt — and I am not finding 
fault with you. Only, if you set any store on your 
future reputation, don't you do it again. For it comes 
under the head of the ‘ flippancy and assurance of 
youth,' and, if persisted in, will get you written down 
a buffoon for the rest of your natural life. Chapter II. 
will have to come out." 

Oh, but I say, if it goes you will destroy the main 
link of the plot," cried Digby Ravelyn, aghast at the 
cool audacity of the proposition. 

‘‘ Maybe, maybe," returned Mr. Barbelow, with the 
greatest possible sangfroid. “ But I had thought of 
all that beforehand, and forged another link ; a stronger 
— I may add a gorier link, to take its place. I flatter 
myself it will get the book accepted at first hand. To 
begin with, you conclude Chapter I. with Sir Jasper 
Bentwood, of ' Myrtle Towers,' at the bottom of a 
pebbly brook in his own domain, with the villain. Cap- 
tain Hawbray (who has thrown him in), standing on 
the bank, and cursing his own driveling stupidity in 
dispatching the old man without first getting him to 
divulge the puzzle of the secret cabinet." 

Quite so. And the captain departs, and does not 
succeed in finding out the mystery of the hidden draw- 
er until Chapter XXV." 

‘‘ No, he doesn't," cried the old man, exultingly. 

At least in my version he don't. Chapter II. dis- 
covers the captain still standing on the bank and 
watching the pellucid waters rippling over the sardonic 
features of the defunct baronet. Then — and not till 
then — a bright idea, and one for which I give myself 
no little credit, comes into his befogged brain; and, 
without waiting to divest himself of his coat and boots, 
he dives into the stream and brings the body to the 
bank " 


Not a bit of use, my dear sir. I tell you the baronet 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


ns 

is dead. I went conscientiously to work in disposing of 
him ; and not all the elixirs of fiction would ever suc- 
ceed in reviving ” 

'' Excuse me. That's where you're wrong again. 
You forget that the captain is a member of the St. 
John's Ambulance Society. At least, I take the liberty 
of reminding your readers of that very necessary 

fact " 

Good gracious ! " 

And his proficiency in ^ artificial respiration ’ 
stands him in such good stead at the present juncture 
that he has no difficulty in restoring the baronet to 
consciousness ; who, thrown off his guard at the nov- 
elty of the situation and the suddenness of the query, 
blurts out the secret of the mysterious cabinet, and is 
forthwith consigned for the second time to his watery 
grave." 

There ! " concluded the old vandal, slapping the 
disgusted young man on the back, and rising triumph- 
antly to his feet. '' If you can show me anything in 
Balzac or Poe that can beat that for a double-barreled 
murder. I'll never put my pen to paper again." 

“ I have come to the conclusion, Barbelow," said our 
hero, looking up frankly into the old man's face, that 
we had far better drop the whole thing at once, before 
I drag you into any further expense and liabilities. 
Here have I been on your hands, my dear old friend, 
for nearly two months, and, so far as I can see, we are, 
from a pecuniary standpoint, as far from success as we 
were when you so generously offered to finance me 
through with the ' Towers.' " 

I couldn't possibly hear of such a thing," said the 
satyr, with decision. A bargain is a bargain all the 
world over, and our term of partnership has got an- 
other six months to run. Besides, with the infusion of 
a little fresh blood into this work of ours, I am more 


1^6 


DIGBY ^AVELYN. 


confident than ever of a successful termination to our 
efforts/’ 

So be it then ! ” sighed Ravelyn, more despondent- 
ly than ever, and resting his chin on both hands, as was 
his habit when the future rose up before him — a monot- 
onous blank wall without end or opening. ‘‘ I am 
beginning to feel wretchedly uneasy about that — that 
poor girl,” he ventured presently, and eyeing his com- 
panion a little apprehensively. '' I mean at my not 
having received a line from her in explanation of that 
affair — wretchedly uneasy ! ” 

“ I don’t doubt it for a moment,” returned the other, 
impassively. You’re not going to ask me for fur- 
ther advice on that point, I hope, after the very short 
manner in which you took me up when I was weak 
enough to volunteer it on her behalf.” 

But you must agree with me, my dear fellow, that 
it was very hard indeed for any man with the least 
grain of self-respect to make the first advance after 
such facts as I have described to you — such damning 
proofs ” 

‘‘ Bah ! I don’t believe ’em,” interrupted Mr. Barbe- 
low, hotly, and again having recourse to the replica. 
'' She couldn*t have done such a thing — ne^^'er in the 
world ! ” 

And why not, pray ? ” 

‘‘ You have your answer there,” replied the old man, 
bluntly, and handing the girl’s likeness over to his com- 
panion. '' Study that first, and then talk to me after- 
ward about self-respect.” 

'' I pray God, you are right in your surmise, Barbe- 
low ! ” exclaimed the young man, rising, in great per- 
turbation, and pacing the room to and fro. I have 
been turning it over and over, night and day, ever 
since, and — by George! I’ll call on her to-morrow.” 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


177 


And supposing I am right V queried the satyr, very 
grimly; he had been watching his young friend with 
intense interest during his perambulations. “ Suppos- 
ing I am right. When then ? 

The question brought Digby to a full stop, as he 
stood over against the fireplace, regarding his friend 
with a fixed look of the most profound misery. 

‘‘ I had a letter from the colonel — my father — this 
morning,'’ he said, arousing himself with an effort, 
and addressing himself apparently to the “ three-quar- 
ter cabinet " of the joiner's daughter. '' Written in his 
favorite vein of ‘ Junius to the Duke of Grafton,' and 
acquainting me of his decision to call upon me on his 
arrival in town to-morrow." 

Really ! " exclaimed Mr. Barbelow, with as much 
interest as he was capable of, and drawing nearer to 
the young man's side. How on earth did he become 
acquainted with your whereabouts ? " 

‘‘ Probably through his ward — Miss Troope." 

H'm. The young lady whose advent was the occa- 
sion of Mrs. Busby's notice to quit " 

— And your good offices in nullifying that worthy 
person's fiat — the same." 

And what can be his object in breaking silence after 
this lapse of time? " 

An idea occurs to me, Barbelow, that the old boy 
has been made acquainted with the — er — situation. 
For, underlying the pomposity of its sentiments, there 
is a something that seems to me to smack of forgive- 
ness. Listen to the peroration : ‘ Abandoning, there- 
fore, for the present, all attempt to reason with you 
upon a subject that lends itself peculiarly to verbal dis- 
cussion, permit me at least to hold out some hopes of 
amendment in your views, when it shall be my pleas- 
ure ' — mark it well, Barbelow — ^ pleasure to call upon 
you on the occasion of my return (to-morrow) to town 
—on urgent private business.’ 


I7S 


DIGBY RAVELYN, 


Said business having reference, without doubt, to 
the final disposal of the Dumbton estates,'’ added the 
young man, bitterly, as he folded the note, and tossed it 
over to his companion. 

Scarcely, however, had the latter adjusted his 
glasses and commenced its perusal, when a tremen- 
dous rat-a-tat-tat " resounded throughout the house, 
causing both the lodgers to spring to their feet and 
stand gazing at one another with an expression of 
amused perplexity, if not alarm. 

‘‘ My prophetic soul ! " gasped the young man, stay- 
ing the other with outstretched arms as he made for 
the door. 

Your father?" 

He," responded Digby, with that reckless assump- 
tion of humor born of similar trying circumstances. 

But you must not leave me, Barbelow. Out of this 
room you stir not until we — we — have had it out." 

Do you wish it ? " 

As a matter of partnership, yes ! " 

‘‘ Then," resolved the satyr, seating himself at the 
fireplace and proceeding to fill up his pipe, I don't 
budge from here, though the world in person should 
enter and show me the door." 

“ Come in ! " cried Digby, in response to Mrs. Bus- 
by's agitated knock, and the colonel, stooping his great 
height in deference to an average doorway, walked 
stiffly into the room. 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


179 


CHAPTER XVIL 

AN OLD MAN FIGHTS LOVERS BATTLE. 

How fares it with you, Digby, my boy ? cried the 
old officer, heartily enough, though there was a sem- 
blance of nervousness in the way in which he advanced 
his hand, as though he doubted in what manner the 
movement might be received. 

‘' Tolerably well, sir,'^ replied his son, with an im- 
mense effort to brazen out the disadvantages of the 
situation. “ On the whole, sir, tolerably well.'’ 

They stood looking at one another for some time 
with that nervous instability of gaze so common to 
sensitive natures before engaging in verbal warfare. 
Then the colonel's eye fell for the first time on Mr. 
Barbelow, sitting with his back to the empty grate, 
and staring fixedly through the dirty window panes 
into space, and he made a sign to his son to denote his 
desire that the latter should at once withdraw. 

But, instead of acting upon it, Digby Ravelyn went 
through the usual form of introduction, during which 
his fellow-lodger drew himself up, and bowed with a 
dignity so opposed to his general appearance, and yet 
so irresistible in its unaffected ease, that the colonel 
was bound to acknowledge the salute as coming, if not 
from a gentleman, at least from one* with very color- 
able pretensions to that denomination. 

“ Though personally unknown to me, sir," said Mr. 
Barbelow to the colonel, “ your name was once familiar 
enough both to myself and that section of the reading 
public who take an interest not only in the welfare of 
their country, but in the deeds of those whose personal 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


i8o 

gallantry in the field has contributed so much toward 
its greatness/’ 

The colonel silently bowed his acknowledgments of 
the compliment, but gave his son clearly to understand, 
even in that action, that the presence of a third party 
was a bar to all private conversation. 

Mr. Barbelow noted the look and marked his appre- 
ciation of the implied wish by leisurely seating him- 
self by the fireplace and lapsing into his usual attitude 
of stolid indifference. 

Mr. Barbelow has probably not been made 
acquainted with the events that have led to your tak- 
ing up your abode here, sir,” said the colonel, address- 
ing his son, and regarding the satyr with a lowering 
brow. I say he is probably not aware of these things, 
or he would doubtless understand that his presence 
during an interview of a peculiarly private nature was 
in the last degree undesirable.” 

Pardon, me, sir,” interposed Digby, motioning his 
father to a seat (which the latter, however, declined), 
'' Mr. Barbelow is fully aware of all that has transpired ; 
and (with every feeling of respect to yourself), permit 
me to add that this gentleman having, with a kindness 
for which I can never sufficiently thank him, fulfilled 
the position of friend and counselor and guardian, late- 
ly renounced by you, I do not feel disposed — even at 
your bidding — to mark my want of confidence in him 
by requesting him to retire.” 

'' Fine words, sir, upon my soul ! ” sneered the 
colonel, reddening with passion, and fixing his son 
with blazing eyes. ‘‘ Then, am I to understand that 
this further display of unfilial insolence is tantamount 
to an admission on your part that you are still bent on 
consummating this disgraceful ” 

‘‘ Stay, sir ! ” cried the young man, with an impulsive 
movement toward his father that caused even that fiery 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


l8l 

old officer to recoil involuntarily and hold his peace. 
** You are not now in Ravelyn House. You forget 
that our positions are reversed. You are here in my 
room, uninvited, and, I may add, in view of your pres- 
ent outburst, far from welcome; and I must exercise 
my prerogative by asking you to moderate your 
language when referring to one who — disgrace or no 
disgrace — is not here to refute the calumnies you have 
thought fit to disseminate broadcast. You wish to know 
if my plans have undergone any change since our last 
interview. They have not. You have my answer, sir. 
I regret it is not more to your taste.’’ 

One word. Colonel Ravelyn,” remarked Mr. Bar- 
below, rising in his place, as the colonel, having col- 
lected his wits, was about to return to the charge. 

Silence, sir ! ” thundered the colonel, wheeling on 
the last speaker, who nevertheless met his enraged 
looks without the least sign. How dare you intrude 
your conversation, where your presence alone is an 
insult.” 

One word. Colonel ” reiterated Mr. Barbelow, 

motioning with his hand as if to exorcise that officer’s 
angry humor. 

‘‘ Do you allow this man to address me, sir? ” cried 
the colonel to his son, who, upright, rigid, and with his 
eyes fixed upon Mr. Barbelow, seemed scarcely to have 
noticed the query in his surprise at the unexpected in- 
tervention of his friend. 

‘‘ Go on,” said he to the latter, in response to his 
mute appeal. ‘‘ Speak to him, Barbelow, both for my- 
self and — if you will — for her. For experience has 
taught me that anything I might now advance on our 
behalf would be worse than thrown away upon him. 
And further provocation might tempt me perhaps to 
address you, sir (to his father), in a manner even more 
hostile than that which I have just now exhibited — 
and for which, believe me, I am already more than 
ashamed ” 


i 82 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


'' Keep your sham sentiments to yourself, sir,’^ said 
the colonel, with a simulated composure his shifting 
brows went far to belie. Keep them to yourself, or 
rather, reserve them for the edification of your self- 
constituted mentor. For, as far as I am concerned, the 
matter was already closed when you thought fit to ad- 
dress me as, by gad, sir ! I would have been ashamed to 
have spoken to the lowest menial in my employ. 

I came here this morning,’’ went on the colonel, in 
calmer tones, and modulating his voice into a lower 
and more sentimental key, with words of forgiveness 
on the tip of my tongue, and ready at the least sign on 
your part to obliterate all memory of a very discredit- 
able incident, and once more hold forth my hand to 
you in the bond of paternal fellowship. And how, may 
I ask, have you met my advances? Shall I tell you, 
sir? In a manner as befits your appearance, your sur- 
roundings, your recent past, and, I may add (with a 
glance at Mr. Barbelow), your present associates. 
And now, with the closing of that door behind me,” 
concluded the colonel, passing on from sentiment to 
heavy tragedy, '' not only shall all such feelings be 
shut out of my heart as long as it may continue to beat, 
but you, sir — yes, you, base ingrate, and wretched 
failure that you are — will be barred from all enjoyment 
of that heritage that was as surely yours by birthright 
as it shall most certainly be that of your brother’s 
children by a merciful provision in law! I wish you 
good day, sir — I wish you farewell, sir. Mr. — er — 

Barbero, my duty to you, and ” 

‘‘ One word. Colonel,” remonstrated the latter, with 
the formula he had been vainly endeavoring to preface 
his remarks. 

Not one-half of a word, sir,” responded the 
colonel firmly, and assuming his hat and gloves pre- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 1 83 

paratory to leaving the room. '' Not the tenth frac- 
tional part of a word, sir. I have done.’’ 

Come, come. Colonel Ravelyn ! For shame ! You 
must — you shall listen to me.” 

Shall, sir?” 

Yes, shall — or hear me tell you to your face that 
you are no gentleman.” 

When he had sufficiently realized the sense of this 
outrageous threat, the colonel quickly withdrew his 
hand from the door and wheeled in amazement upon 
the audacious speaker. But if it was with the inten- 
tion of intimidating the latter, never had he felt less 
confident of his moral and physical powers than he did 
then. 

Mr. Barbelow seemed to have added at least a foot 
-to his height in the fit of righteous indignation that 
burned under cover of his shaggy eyebrows and parted 
his lips until his great yellow teeth revealed themselves, 
clenched and grinding. 

With a strong effort of control, however, he suc- 
ceeded in attuning his voice to its normal growl of 
conscious power, and, with an irresistible motion of his 
big, flabby hand, he literally waved the astounded 
colonel into a seat. 

In our younger days. Colonel Ravelyn,” said he, 
slowly and deliberately, when gentlemen met each 
other face to face on the measured ground, it was con- 
sidered a point of honor that a principal should abide 
his turn and stay his ground until he had received his 
adversary’s fire. While you addressed your remarks 
to your son, there was nothing in their purport to call 
for any interference on my part. But when you thought 
fit by innuendo to include me in your sweeping denun- 
ciations, then, sir, I felt bound to insist on your hearing 
me, not only in explanation of the situation in which 
you have found me, but also on behalf of your son, by 


184 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


wliose permission I remain in the room — and with 
whose permission I am about to speak.” 

Say on, sir,” said the colonel, resignedly, remov- 
ing his hat and leaning back in the attitude of an 
elderly St. Sebastian under fire. “ But, be brief, if you 
have regard for your own and my time; for, in the 
result, I presume we will neither of us have profited 
for the better.” 

'' First, let me ask you to dismiss from your mind 
all idea that, in addressing you, I am doing so on an 
unequal social footing,” continued the satyr, with quiet 
but impressive dignity. My father was of your pro- 
fession, Colonel Ravelyn — a distinguished officer, and 
a gentleman in so far as the artificiality of your social 
world will permit a man to act up to that title. And, 
although I failed to inherit his military ardor, my 
friends, of whom, I believe, I still possess a few, would 
probably tell you that I have done nothing within their 
knowledge to forfeit my claim to being considered a 
gentleman.” 

‘‘ The name of Barbelow is not familiar to me in con- 
nection with the service,” said the colonel, with a faint 
display of interest. 

Probably not,” assented the present bearer of that 
name, coloring slightly under the concentrated gaze 
of both his hearers. ‘‘ For my father had gained his 
spurs and retired long before Colonel Ravelyn (if you 
will pardon) was even heard of.” 

'' Quite so,” said the colonel, condescendingly. I 
grant you such a circumstance is well within the bounds 
of possibility. But is he still living? ” 

I couldn't say,” replied the other, quietly. He 
has never chosen to acquaint me with the fact — nor, 
truth to say, have I been burdened with sufficient curi- 
osity to inquire.” 

The colonel treated his son to a triumphant little 


DIGBY RAVELYN, 


i8s 


smile, as who should say : '' I guessed as much. 
Birds of a feather, etc., etc.,’’ but indulged in no 
remark. 

'' Because,” continued Mr. Barbelow, interpreting the 
look, having incurred his displeasure and left my 
home at a very early age, I have been fortunate enough, 
by my own unaided efforts, to attain such a position of 
independence as enables me to treat the dislikes or dis- ' 
pleasures of others with the greatest possible indiffer- 
ence.” 

“ Your courage and resolution in the circumstances 
do you great credit,” commented the colonel, moder- 
ating his supercilious manner in proportion as the 
words of the other carried conviction with them. It 
never entered my mind for a second to question your 
integrity — God forbid ! And if, in the heat of the mo- 
ment, I have unwittingly said anything to offend you, 

I am willing to — ah — tender you my — er — sincere re- 
grets ” 

'' It is unnecessary,” interrupted Mr. Barbelow, with 
a hauteur of tone and manner that, but for his physique, 
would have bordered almost on the majestic. '' Suffi- 
cient for me that I consider myself fully qualified by 
birth and breeding to act as your son’s next friend. 
He being,” added the satyr, with a sly look at the young 
man, in one respect, scarcely of age.” 

My son’s friends, both present and of the future, 
are of the least consequence to me,” observed the 
colonel. You have already heard me express my final 
views on that subject. Were you in my position you 
would probably indorse them.” 

‘‘ If I were in your position, Colonel Ravelyn,” re- 
plied Mr. Barbelow, '' I would probably consider your 
son’s matrimonial projects from a less worldly point of 
view, and reverse your judgment.” 


i86 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


'' You are not married, sir, I presume? ” inquired the 
colonel, with an exaggerated assumption of interest. 

'' I am not. If I were, I should consider myself 
qualified to form no better opinion. My conclusions 
are simply the outcome of a lifetime of unrestricted 
observation. Had it been otherwise, and my son had 
centered his affections on one as pure and good as the 
woman of my own choice, I should have considered his 
happiness of greater moment even than mine, and given 
him the benefit of any doubt that might be attached to 
his sweetheart’s parentage.” 

Dear me, yes ! ” remarked the colonel, amusedly. 

I have read much the same sort of thing in working- 
class prints, and have no doubt that these risky con- 
tracts have been found to work very well among those 
circles — where neither family nor position are of the 
slightest moment. But with us of the more refined 
section of the community these — er — matrimonial faux 
pas are so completely opposed to all social progress, 
that you will pardon me if I would suggest that such 
terms as love, sentiment, purity, and so forth, have 
little in common in connection with a problem of such 
grave moment. I am not prepared to deny that they 
are very valuable adjuncts to property and purity of 
descent. But they are not indispensable, my dear sir — 
very far from it.” 

The colonel glanced across at his son in the hope that 
his words had not been without their proper effect on 
his recalcitrant mind ; but the young man seemed to 
have forgotten his father’s very presence in his silent 
admiration for the champion, whose opinions on the 
ethics of matrimony appeared to coincide so remark- 
ably with his own. 

Go on, Barbelow,” he signaled to his bellicose part- 
ner. And Barbelow went on. 

‘‘ I take it. Colonel Ravelyn,” said he, breaking fresh 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


187 

ground, '' that our chief end in life is so to regulate our 
actions that we may retain the affectionate remem- 
brance of our friends long after we have passed away/' 
Granted," replied the colonel, grudgingly. '' For 
the moment I can not recall any more worthy object." 

'' And I take it also," pursued Mr. Barbelow, that 
a man's relations would rank first in the category of 
mourners." 

'' You may," assented the colonel. '' It is perhaps 
natural that we should cherish these rather ultra-sen- 
timental ideas at a time of life when the less manly 
qualities predominate." 

“ And that the biding love of a man's wife and chil- 
dren would naturally be prized above all his kindred ? " 
questioned Mr. Barbelow, with that gruff tenderness of 
tone so peculiarly his own. 

I am entirely with you on these points. You need 
not proceed to enlarge on them," said the colonel. 

Then, Colonel Ravelyn," said the old man, very 
deliberately and very earnestly, “ I can scarcely bring 
myself to believe that you would have turned your back 
on one who, in the ordinary course of weak nature, 
would thereby have execrated your memory to his dying 
day. We are both old men, sir — as old age counts in 
these go-ahead days. With us the sands of life are 
fast running out. Let me beseech you, before it is too 
late, to reflect upon your son's position, and modify 
your attitude toward him. Has it never occurred to you 
that a grain of praise is due to a young man who, 
confident in the rectitude of the woman of his choice, 
has sacrificed his position and faced starvation itself 
solely upon this question of high principle ? " 

The colonel made him no response. He was too 
much interested in observing the effect of the last 
premise upon his son — whose face clearly showed that 


i88 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


in advancing it Mr. Barbelow was taking upon him- 
self to say more than he was justified in doing. 

Here we have a young girl/’ continued the satyr, 
taking the likeness from the table and apparently draw- 
ing his conclusions solely therefrom, whose whole life 
is one unsullied record of filial duty and abiding affec- 
tion for all that is good and lovable in this unlovable 
world of ours. If she has one fault, it might perhaps 
be her too absolute devotion to a father, whose welfare 
she has studied to the exclusion of those innumerable 
little whims and pleasures so dear to her sex — carry- 
ing her self-effacement to a point when health itself is 

endangered by privation and overwork ” 

Digby Ravelyn started from his seat, pale and trem- 
bling, and was about to speak, when his literary partner 
anticipated him with a loud and peremptory ‘‘ Sit 
down ! ” and then went on : 

Here we have a girl,” said he, in his role of physi- 
ognomist, '' who, from her earliest childhood, has been 
compelled by an embittered and selfish father to live 
among a class of people not particularly distinguished 
for all the proprieties ; but who, thanks to her sterling 
moral qualities, has moved about among them with 
an unsullied name, and who, without the least suspicion 
of prudery in her sunny nature, is worshiped alike by 
the good, bad, and indifferent among them. She has 
a tender heart — poor soul ! — a leetle too tender, I fancy, 
to withstand the buffets of my treacherous old friend — 
the enemy. But a heart as good as gold, withal, and 
a head as evenly balanced as the best among us. The 
face is not the face of a great beauty — thank the Lord 
for that ! But it is a face nevertheless that appeals to 
the chivalry of the average man — a face,” added Mr. 
Barbelow, very pointedly, ‘‘ that would haunt the con- 
science of the blackest scoundrel who would do her a 
wrong. Such a face, indeed, as we would dearly wish 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


189 

to see bending over us when, in our dying moments, 
our thoughts are of mercy and of the lasting peace to 
come. In a word, Colonel Ravelyn, we have here one 
of the best among womanly women, and one who would 
add rather than detract from the luster of your house 
by an alliance with your son. There you have my 
views on the matter, sir! I hope they will not have 
been advanced in vain.'’ 

Mr. Barbelow sat down, and, striking several match- 
es together, proceeded to light up his pipe with an al- 
most painful deliberateness of purpose. 

Colonel Ravelyn arose slowly from his place and 
reached for the portrait left lying upon the table at the 
conclusion of the above cited speech. He stood looking 
at it for some considerable time in thoughtful silence. 
Something in the contour and pose of the curly little 
head had apparently called up memories of just such 
another one lying vaulted away at Dumbton, and — 
forgotten ; and he transferred his glance to their son, 
as he imagined how, if she were there, she would have 
pleaded his cause and condoned his fault. 

The young man, with his chin resting upon both 
hands, sat contemplating his partner, as he had done 
throughout, with lips apart, and eyes staring wide, as 
though in a deep trance of horror or remorse — or both ; 
but never saying a word — only watching and thinking. 

The colonel, replacing the portrait, turned to Mr. 
Barbelow, sitting by the fireplace puffing his pipe in 
dogged silence, and for the moment there appeared a 
softer lock in his eyes; then, without one word good 
or bad to either of them, he stepped quickly to the door, 
threw it open, and walked out. 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 




CHAPTER XVIII. 

MR. ALFRED CHAMFER LEAVES FOR AMERICA ON TOUR. 

The noise of the street door closing behind Colonel 
Ravelyn seemed to break the spell that Mr. Barbelow's 
words had cast upon Digby. For the latter started 
up and, going over to his smoke-enshrouded companion, 
said, in a voice trembling with emotion : 

‘‘ Tell me — was that all true? ’’ 

Gospel,'' was the sententious reply. 

‘‘ And you don't believe what — what I believed of 
her?" 

‘‘ Believe! — If I thought myself capable of even sus- 
pecting such a thing, I would hire a man specially to 
kick me every ten minutes of the day." 

Digby Ravelyn took his hat down from the wall and 
turned to leave the room. 

“ Where away, now ? " asked the satyr, without mov- 
ing his head, and with as small an appearance of inter- 
est as it was possible for even him to assume. 

To her ! " cried the young man, hoarsely, and mak- 
ing for the door. To her father. To— to — oh, my 
God ! what have I done ? " And he rushed precipitately 
from the room. 

Mr. Barbelow sat for some time absolutely motion- 
less, the smoke from his pipe wreathing itself around 
him in ever-increasing density, and the intermittent 
glow from its bowl revealing his heavy features knitted 
together in the profoundest thought. After a while 
he commenced slowly and with great deliberation to 
squeeze and pull each knotty finger joint until they had 
all gone off in a series of muffled reports. And when 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


191 

Mr. Barbelow went as far as that in his meditations 
it was a certain sign that he had braced up his mind 
to great things, and was celebrating the fact, as it were, 
by a, species of royal salutes. 

‘‘ That settles it — I’m oflf,” he muttered, rising and 
knocking the ashes out of his pipe. “ I must be away 
before I’m dragged any further into this family 
squabble. But I will see his father again before I go. 
I fancy I have already more than half succeeded in 
gaining his ear, and if I can leave the boy once more 
upon safe ground, I have very little fear for the rest. 
Bless the child, how she seems to smile her thanks at 
me ! ” He took up the young girl’s likeness, and, press- 
ing it reverentially to his lips, turned and went upstairs 
to his room. 

This apartment was in all respects so exactly like 
the one he had just quitted that it leaves nothing for 
description. The bed was there — as like the other as 
two peas — even to the missing knob. So were the late 
members of the Busby family, in oils, in daguerreotype, 
in water colors, and worsted, and all in the same eccen- 
tricities of a bygone fashion. But there was a book- 
shelf on the wall that was not apparent in the room 
below, and this bookshelf, together with the table, was 
heavily laden with a miscellaneous collection of light 
fiction, in the study of which Mr. Barbelow had lately 
spent a great deal of his time. To the right of the fire- 
place, in an attitude of stony contemplation, lay a 
stufifed black-and-tan terrier — a relic of Mr. Barbe- 
low’s earlier affections; and facing it on the left was 
a heavy leather armchair, from which a man in mole- 
skin overalls, speckled profusely with limewash, arose, 
and, hat in hand, bowed respectfully to Mr. Barbe- 
low as he entered. 

‘'Well, Fred?” Inquired the latter, shaking hands 
with Mr. Holder, and then leisurely seating himself. 


192 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


And what is the best news you are able to give me 
to-day 

'' No better and no worse/' replied Mr. Holder, sol- 
emnly. ‘‘ Still unsensible, and still weakly — but quiet 
and motionless as — as death itself." 

Shocked apparently at the impropriety of the simile, 
Mr. Holder dropped helplessly into the big armchair; 
but, coming out of it again as suddenly in the intense 
excitement under which he appeared to be laboring, 
stood twisting his hat in the same attitude of respectful 
attention. 

And he? " questioned Mr. Barbelow, taking a bottle 
and glass from the sideboard, and helping the brick- 
layer's laborer to sherry. “ What of him ? " 

I never did know what to make of him at any time," 
was the reply. He never shows nothing on the surface, 
whatever he may feel. But if loss of speech and general 
absent-mindedness goes for anything, I should say he 
was a goner if any harm should come to her." 

What a world it is," muttered the old man, dream- 
ily. ‘‘ The bad and the good overcoming one another 
by turns until we begin to lose their identity, and won- 
der whether we are looking on the one or the other. 
What a world it is ! " 

‘‘ But, tell me, what says the doctor? " 

‘‘ Doctor Gray don, he says he's done all for her with 
the help of medicine he's able to do; and that restful 
quiet, and peace of mind, and a naturally cheerful con- 
stitution must do the rest." 

“ ‘ Peace of mind,' did he say? " remarked Mr. Bar- 
below half to himself, and essaying to crack his finger 
joints all over again. If peace of mind will help to- 
ward it, then perhaps I have prescribed and sent her 
the right medicine. Did you meet anyone as you went 
out, Fred? " 

‘‘ Only him," replied the bricklayer's laborer, pointing 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


193 


significantly to the floor. But he didn’t know me. 
And, as he seemed in a bit of a flurry and left the door 
open, I took the liberty of cornin’ in and steppin’ up.’’ 

“ You did perfectly right,” nodded the satyr, in gruff 
approval. '' You can’t come here too often while she 
is in this precarious condition. But you must take care 
in future to ascertain when he is out. I have my reasons 
for the present why he should not recognize you.” 

'' I always takes care to ask in the shop fust,” said 
Mr. Holder, drooping his head to conceal the flush that 
had overspread his face. '' She always tells me.” 

“ I’ve no doubt she does,” observed Mr. Barbelow, 
smiling mischievously at the poor fellow’s embarrass- 
ment. ‘‘ And, if you don’t mind it coming from me, 
Fred, who knows something of the world by this time, 
you might go further and fare a great deal worse.” 

Thankee, kindly, sir, for that. It’s just my opinion 
of her, too. And if signs goes for anything with the 
feminine sect, I don’t fancy she’ll be calling herself 
Mrs. Busby for long — leasterways, not if I can help to’- 
ards it, she won’t.” 

Whereat Mr. Barbelow shook him heartily by the 
hand, and Mr. Holder as heartily thanked him for his 
good wishes for the future. 

And now I suppose you will go straight back to 
him?” 

To William. Yes, sir.” 

'' Not to-night, Fred — to-morrow morning, you 
mean.” 

“ Jest so. Of course, I meant to-morrow, sir. Your 
wishes are law to me. ’Cos they’re always for her good 
— the bonny creature ! ” 

‘‘ That’s right, Fred. You leave it all to me. And 
now that you are here, I have got some further work 
for you to set about, and without loss of time, either. 


194 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


Come, draw up your chair to me, and we will begin/' 

Mr. Barbelow got up and locked the door, and then 
returning, took up his favorite position with his back 
to the grate, while proceeding to further instruct the 
all-attentive Mr. Holder in the business that had so 
strangely thrown them together. 

Digby is already passing up the street, at the end of 
which stands the tenement within whose walls the ob- 
ject of all his thoughts lies stricken — perhaps unto 
death; and the agony of mind that had enabled him 
to accomplish the journey at almost racing speed was 
not lessened at the thought that her father might pos- 
sibly have found just cause to resent his impending 
visit. 

As he drew nigh to the cottage, therefore, he slack- 
ened his speed and, under cover of the darkness, softly 
approached the wicket gate. There was a light in the 
parlor window — a feeble glimmer that was all but lost 
in its endeavor to penetrate the dark red blind and the 
thick latticed panes beyond; but nevertheless a light 
where he had half feared to find all darkness, and his 
heart beat all the more freely as he raised the gate- 
latch and stole down the little garden path on tiptoe. 

Arrived at the door, he stood for some time listening 
to the wind among the garden foliage, and watching the 
hanging creepers pass and repass the window panes 
with each succeeding gust. Then, as he was about to 
knock upon the door, a figure rose stealthily up out of 
the gloom, and a man's face appeared suddenly on the 
outside of the window, with its cheek pressed tightly to 
the glass in its endeavor to aflford the eyes a glimpse of 
what was passing within. 

Scarcely, however, had the newcomer settled himself 
into a position favorable for view, when the exclama- 
tion of surprise that escaped from Ravelyn's lips caused 


BIGBY RAVELYN. 


195 


him to turn quickly in that direction, and he as suddenly 
ducked and subsided among the shrubbery at his feet. 

'' Come here, my good fellow,’' said Digby Ravelyn, 
quietly, for he was loath to cause alarm to the inmates, 
even at the risk of allowing a burglar to make good 
his escape. It is useless to think you can get away 
now^ — I should overtake you before you reached the 
gate. Come out here to me at once ! ” 

Again the man rose to his full height ; but, instead of 
evincing signs of flight, advanced toward Digby, with 
a wonderful appearance of confidence, but with one 
hand pressed to his lips and the other extended as if to 
implore the young man’s silence. 

“Digby Ravelyn,” whispered the eavesdropper when 
he had reached that person’s side. 

“The same,” was the reply. “And you ?” 

“Come with me,” responded the other, still speaking 
in a whisper and drawing the astonished young man 
after him by the coat-sleeve toward the gate. “ Not a 
word above a whisper if you ever set any value on her 
life ! Phew ! — I wouldn’t have had a row under her 
window at this time of the night and the state she is in 
— not if I was never to see her again.” 

“ You are alluding ” 

“To Miss Mary Downs. Come, Mr. Ravelyn — your 
hand. There’s been a terrible mistake here, and I am 
right glad of the opportunity to do something toward 
putting it right.” 

He was now speaking in the ordinary conversational 
tone ; for they were standing in the street and well be- 
yond the hearing of the inmates of the cottage. Be- 
sides, there was no further need for dissimulation. His 
diminutive height, a certain fiery stage-energy of man- 
ner, not to mention such minor details as a hat that was 
much too small and a coat that was a great deal too 
large, had already established his identity in the eyes 


196 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


of the now furious young Ravelyn, who saw before him 
his detested little rival in the affections of Mary Downs. 

''Hands off me, until you have heard what Fve got to 
say !” cried Mr. Alfred Chamfer, as with a sudden move- 
ment well known to "the profession’’ he released his 
collar from Digby’s grasp. " Hear me first, I tell you ; 
and then if it don’t satisfy you. I’m your man, with any 
weapon, at any time, and at any place you may fix 
upon.” 

"Go on, sir — I am ready to hear you,” said Digby, 
somewhat mollified by the genuine ring that pervaded 
the foregoing bombast. But he clutched his stick, never- 
theless, until it quivered again; and had Mr. Alfred 
Chamfer seen his face in daylight, he might perhaps 
have felt less easy in his mind as to the result of his ex- 
planations. 

Then the little man, with a vast deal of dramatic 
genuflexions and posturing — all lost in the gloom of a 
sparsely lit street — proceeded to relieve his bosom of 
every consuming woe that had beset it from his earliest 
childhood up to that moment when, touched by remorse 
at the part he had unwittingly played in estranging the 
lovers, and goaded to madness by his sister’s spite and 
his father’s ill-temper, he had made up his mind to make 
a clean breast of it — first to the carpenter and joiner, 
then to Digby Ravelyn himself — and afterward to seek 
his living in a profession more in keeping with his his- 
trionic inclinations. 

During this recital young Ravelyn had stood up 
against the gate, too shocked — too stunned — to offer a 
word of condolence. For he had learned that Mr. Bar- 
below’s worst fears were only too well grounded, and 
that the gentle-hearted being, whose last warm kiss 
seemed to him only an incident of yesterday, was lying 
within a few yards of him in the worst stages of a 
malignant fever. 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


197 


''And that’s why I was here to-night,” concluded Mr. 
Alfred Chamfer, dolefully. " But, like yourself, being a 
little curious at first to see how the land lay in there as 
regards hiniy I took the liberty of doing a little recon- 
noitering on my own account. Are we to be friends 
now, Mr. Ravelyn, or — what? ” 

/' Friends! ” echoed the young man, arousing himself 
from the stupor into which he had fallen. "Friends! 
Why, God bless you, my dear fellow, can I ever suffi- 
ciently repay you for your generous — your noble con- 
duct ” 

" The less said about the nobility of it, the better, sir,” 
interrupted Mr. Alfred Chamfer ruefully. "A week 
ago (when I first overheard by an accident how the mis- 
understanding arose), if I had only spoken up and told 
you all, things might have been very different to what 
they are now. But I little knew then how women take 
such things to heart ; and so long as I thought no harm 
would come to her, and so long as my father behaved 
and didn’t provoke me beyond all endurance, I thought 
— the devil within me thought — it was best to let things 
slide as they were. Now — n-now,” added Mr. Cham- 
fer, breaking down suddenly and having recourse to his 
handkerchief, "I would walk barefooted on red hot 
irons till all was black and blue if I thought that by so 
doing I could bring back one healthful smile to the 
bright face of one of the sw^eetest, the most angeliferous 
of good women that ever stirred a man’s heart to better 
things. 

"For she always used to laugh at me, Mr. Ravelyn,” 
he went on, looking up, with a dismal smile in his tear- 
stained little features. "No matter what humor I was 
in, whether serious, or sober, or comic, or serio-comic, 
she was bound to have her little laugh out at me — and, 
bless her, I couldn’t be cross with her, tried I ever so 
hard. If I hadn’t been blind, I might have seen then 


198 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


how impossible it was for the likes of her to even think 
or dream of an article like myself — except perhaps as a 
joke!'’ 

“You have my deepest sympathy with you in your 
disappointment, Mr. Chamfer," said Digby, again tak- 
ing the little man's hand and pressing it warmly. “I 
wish from the bottom of my heart I could offer you 
some more substantial token of the deep obligation I am 
under to you." 

“You could do something toward that even now," 
said Mr. Chamfer, rubbing his nose thoughtfully with 
the handkerchief. “Although really he don't deserve it 
after the bitter things he has said of me. But a father 
is a father, Mr. Ravelyn, however much they forget to 
act up to it at times ; and I should be very sorry to see 
any harm come to him through that little transaction of 
his with Colonel Ravelyn getting talked about. It's 
punishment enough to him as it is, to know that I'm able 
to hold it over his head." 

“You may rely on my discretion," said Digby. “The 
discreditable part borne in the matter by my own father 
would be quite sufficient inducement to me to keep your 
secret." 

“I knew I could depend upon you, sir," said the other, 
with a little sigh of relief. “That eases my mind in re- 
gard to him. And — and — I think that's all, Mr. Rave- 
lyn — all I can ever hope to say in this business, ex- 
cept " He stopped suddenly and turned his eyes to- 

ward the red light in the cottage window, and then 
faced his companion with a look of the gravest concern. 
“ Except one thing, Mr. Ravelyn, which I trust in 
God's mercy may never be. There, you have my card 
showing where I'm staying for the next fortnight — for 
I’ve left my home this morning for good and ever — 
after which I am booked to leave for America on lour. 
But, Mr. Ravelyn, should the very worst happen to her 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


199 


before the fortnight is up, you’ll send me a wire — won^t 
you — sir, so I may be near by when they put her away 
from us for — always. You won’t mind my asking you 
that last little favor, Mr. Ravelyn. You ” 

Here he broke down again ; and as his companion’s 
feelings would not admit of his making any reply, it 
was some considerable time before they again spoke. 

The undertaker’s son was the first to regain his com- 
posure. He opened the wicket gate, and, stepping into 
the miniature garden, plucked a rose from a bush at hand 
and returned with it to his companion. ‘'She planted 
’em all herself, sir,” he remarked, in explanation of his 
conduct, wrapping the bud in his handkerchief and de- 
positing it in an inner pocket. “ I have watched her 
doing it from over the way there, many is the time, 
when she, poor thing, never dreamt that a party of the 
name of Alfred Chamfer even existed. With your per- 
mission I shall keep this in her memory, while memory 
lasts, and when that’s gone, it will lie with me in my 
grave. Good-by, Mr. Ravelyn. You are about to go 
in there — to be reconciled to them both. When the 
proper moment comes, and she is strong enough to talk 
about such things, will you wish her good-by for me — 
for Alfred Chamfer; and tell her that when you last 
saw him he had forsworn all his wild, drinking habits, 
and with a heart of good cheer and a level head was 
about to face the world, with a fixed determination to 
master it. God bless you, sir — and her. Good-bye ! ” 

Without trusting himself to look once more toward 
the cottage he turned and walked quickly down the 
street. 

But, nearing the corner, Digby Ravelyn saw him 
wheel around and, with his eyes in the direction of the 
little red light, walk slowly backward until he reached 
the end, and disappeared frcra view. 


200 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

SHE HAS FORGIVEN YOU.’’ 

‘'Softly, doctor, softly!” whispered the carpenter and 
joiner with deep concern to Digby Ravelyn as he opened 
the door for the latter and mistook him in the half 
light for the medical attendant. “She has been sleeping 
steadily for the last three hours, and (God’s pity on the 
poor, tossing little head 1 ) she is slumbering still. 
Leave the door to me. Dr. Graydon. Hark ! was that 
her calling?” Then muttering to himself something 
about her being too weak, and that it would be sheer 
cruelty to disturb her now, he left the young man at the 
door, and, going up several steps leading to the sleeping 
apartments, knelt for some time in an attitude of 
strained attention. 

“Not a sound,” he announced, returning with the 
same caution into the room. “Not a stir anywhere ex- 
cept the rustling of the elder tree outside. It must have 
been in my mind — it’s been ringing there night and day 
last week and more : ‘ The new life, father — the new 

life!^^^ 

He seemed in his terrible distress of mind to have for- 
gotten that he was not alone ; for without more ado he 
moved to his old seat by the fireplace, where, on a. table 
close at hand, lay an old-fashioned Bible — opened at the 
prayer on behalf of the sick and dying. 

It was only when having occasion to shift the lamp 
to a more favorable position for reading that his eyes 
fell upon his visitor and he remembered having ad- 
mitted him. 

He gazed perplexedly at the young man for some 
short space, with the color going and coming on his 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


201 


hollow cheeks as the conviction that Digby's visit was 
connected with danger to his sleeping darling became 
rnore firmly fixed in his distraught mind. 

You are not Dr. Graydon? ’’ he faltered, advancing 
toward the other with an expression of settled misery 
in his great, solemn, brown eyes. '' You have come 
here — for — for consultation with him — have you not? 
Don't you fear to tell me, sir, for I can read it in your 
looks. Have you seen Dr. Graydon, and does he know 
that the fever has left her and — my God, man ! what is 
it — you are white as death and trembling! " 

He laid his long thin fingers on Digby's arm — grasp- 
ing it until the young man winced again under the 
pressure. 

'' You have mistaken me, Mr. Downs," replied 
young Ravelyn, summoning up all the fortitude he was 
possessed of to meet the old man's direct and appealing 
gaze. ‘‘ Have I so altered in appearance since you last 
saw me in Dumbton that you fail to recognize me — 
Digby Ravelyn ? " 

“ HushJ " exclaimed the old man, with a sudden ges- 
ture of stern admonition, as the last words fell upon his 
ears. Not that name now — not the faintest whisper 
of it! Oh, sir! sir! have you no particle of manly 
feeling remaining to you that you must needs utter 
it in her hearing — to quench mayhap the last little 
spark of life that's left to her? 

" Pardon me," he added, abruptly, and in kindlier 
tones; for he was touched by the unmistakable signs 
of distress and genuine grief that he now observed for 
the first time in the wretched young man. Pardon 
me if I have been a little bit short with you, Mr. Rav- 
elyn; but the provocation was strong, knowing as I 
do — in spite of what she has told me — that your con- 
duct had much to do with the mind-fever that broke 
her down." 


202 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


'' I can’t presume — I can’t dare to ask your forgive- 
ness,” stammered Digby, his eyes swimming in scald- 
ing tears, and each word choking him in slow succes- 
sion, when Mr. Downs interrupted him with : 

'' Yes, you can, my lad — and, what’s more, I can 
grant it. For did she not set me the example — the 
dear, loving soul. She forgave you, Mr. Ravelyn, from 
the depths of an aching heart, and now, come what 
may of it. I’ll keep my promise to her and wish you no 
harm.” 

She — forgave — me? ” 

'' Aye, did she — even as we read in this book, of the 
martyrs who blessed those that stoned them.” 

Nevertheless, he offered the young man his hand as 
a token of truce between them, and motioned him to be 
seated. 

“ Forbid I should seek to know the reason that 
brought you here to-night,” he observed, presently, 
with a not unkindly glance toward his visitor ; ‘‘ or to 
fish for the motives that drove you both apart. Your 
present sympathy for me and mine tells me why you 
came. The other affair was my child’s secret — to live 
or die with her. She never confided it to me — my 
Maysie. Happen because it might have caused me 
harm. Happen it was so.” 

He sat leaning back in his chair, confronting his vis- 
itor, as we have seen learned judges sit when profes- 
sionally scanning the features of the prisoner in the 
dock. 

He had essayed once or twice to give expression to 
his miserable feelings in words of condolence and con- 
trition ; but his lips having refused to give utterance to 
them he had abandoned the attempt — content for the 
time being in the knowledge that she had forgiven 
him, and that the same roof was sheltering them both. 

The old man was upon the point of again address- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


203 

ing him when a step was heard upon the stairs, and a 
Sister of Charity, sweet of face and spotless of linen 
(the very embodiment of peace and purity), came into 
the room, and, after a whispered communication to the 
carpenter — a communication that appeared to afford 
the poor fellow a vast deal of gratification — returned 
as noiselessly as she had come. 

'' Still sleeping,'’ remarked the old man, in expla- 
nation, to his companion, his eyes brightening and a 
soft glow of pleasure overspreading his cheeks. 
‘‘ Another hour or two and, with God’s infinite mercy, 
she'll have begun to round for the better." With an 
impulsive movement he extended his hand toward his 
visitor, and the young man, grasping it in both his 
own, pressed it cordially. 

They are all so good to her," said Mr. Downs, in 
reference to the bright-faced nurse who had just left 
them. ‘‘ When they heard she was down with the 
brain fever, there wasn’t a soul among all her friends 
— women folks as well — that didn’t come or send to 
know how she was going on. It was wonderful indeed 
how quick the news got about. She hadn't been in bed 
a couple of hours before that kind soul upstairs walked 
into the house, as if it had to be, and, packing me off 
post-haste for a specialist doctor, has remained by the 
bedside pretty nigh ever since. It was the doctor’s 
wish that my child should be taken off to the hospital. 
But while her mind was free from the delirium she 
was dead against it, and begged so hard that they 
wouldn’t take her from me that I hadn't the heart 
to refuse her. It may seem a hard thing, Mr. Ravelyn, 
to say about so splendid an institution, but there are 
some among us so tender of thought by nature that 
the sight of those long whitewashed rooms, and the 
screens that are always being shifted, are sufficient 
alone in their awfulness to crush out all hope of re- 
covery." 


204 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


Mr. Downs paused for some seconds in painful con- 
templation of the gruesome position in which he had 
mentally placed his child, and then, with a long-drawn 
sigh of relief, went on : 

It seemed always against the grain with me to 
accept the charity of the neighbors — and in this respect 
my child was more or less of my way of thinking. But 
there comes a time, Mr. Ravelyn, when the pinched, 
white faces of those whose lives we value infinitely 
more than our own, will drive all such false notions 
of pride to the winds; and that time came when she 
sank helpless into my arms. Since then (nearly a 
month ago) she was never really herself ; but last week 
she took a sudden turn for the worse, and has never 
bettered till this afternoon, when the fever left her. 
If it be in God’s power to return good for good on 
earth, may He breathe His blessings on the kind, anon- 
ymous soul who supplied me with the money and the 
little delicacies that have done so much toward helping 
us around. 

‘‘ Here is something that came only this morning,” 
he interrupted himself, producing a paper from his 
vest pocket and smoothing it carefully out upon the 
table ; ‘‘ and from a quarter that I never dreamed of 
seeing anything come — except what was bad. Read it ! 
There is no secret about it. It was my child’s doings.” 

A cheque for £ioo, payable to William Downs, and 
signed — George Downs ! ” 

‘‘ My brother George in South America,” explained 
the carpenter and joiner, tersely. ‘'No letter, no mes- 
sage, nothing — simply a letter from his London bank- 
ers inclosing it. He was a morbid, unforgiving sort of 
a man, was George, my brother, and just the sort of 
person you would expect to forward his sympathies 
through a banker — and crossed at that,” he added, 
taking the cheque back, and completing the smoothing 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


205 


process on the table. ‘‘ Howsoever, there it is ; and 
there it will have to be paid. How and when is more 
than lies in my power to say. But it may mean life to 
her ; and as such it has to be looked upon in the light 
of a brotherly action.'' 

At this juncture, the old eight-day clock in the corner 
having shown premonitory signs of striking the hour of 
ten, Mr. Downs arose quickly and, detaching the strik- 
ing weight from its chain, dropped it into his pocket. 

I mind me of the time," he remarked, incidentally, 
when as a mere babby she would lie in her little 
cradle watching that same clock by the hour for it 
to strike. And then she'd set up and check off the 
strokes with her tiny hand — so — as natural and as 
regular as any machine might have done. There used 
to be a lion," he added, casually, '' a lion with movable 
red eyes and a blue mane, that came out and roared 
the quarters; but she never could abide it after the 
first fright it gave her, and so I was obliged to study 
her convenience and put it out of gear." 

He smiled lugubriously over at his companion, at 
the whimsical picture he had called up from the past, 
and then dropping back into his seat, remained for 
some time buried in profound thought. 

He was aroused by a hand laid gently on his shoul- 
der, and, looking up with a start, encountered the sor- 
rowful face of his young visitor bending over him 
with every token of commiseration and respect in his 
eyes. 

You referred just now," said Digby, '' to the mo- 
tives that had parted your daughter from me " 

'' — And I told you, Mr. Ravelyn, ‘that whatever it 
may have been, it was my child's secret, and as such 
not to be pried into by anyone." 

'' But if I tell you I was solely to blame in daring to 
doubt her plighted word ; that she knew no cause that 


2o6 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


could possibly have justified the step which in my mad- 
ness I had taken — that, in fact, she was as ignorant as 
you are yourself — what then ? ’’ 

If what you tell me is true, sir — and I have no 
reason to doubt your word — then it only serves to 
bear out the opinion I have ever had of my child — 
an opinion that nothing could, or will, ever alter. 
What have I to say to it? This: If the Almighty for- 
gives you the hurt you have done that gentle soul, as 
freely as she has forgiven it herself, there is no act of 
reparation or sacrifice great enough to be undertaken 
in return, whenever it may lay in your power to do 
so.” 

‘‘ Amen to that with all my heart and soul,” said the 
young man, with great fervor. He was proceeding to 
relate the circumstances of the rencontre in Battersea 
Park when Mr. Downs interrupted him with : 

'' I will spare you the trouble — and the pain — of tell- 
ing it to me, Mr. Ravelyn. It matters little to me how 
the misunderstanding arose; knowing, as I now do — 
and as Tve done all along — that she was in no way 
concerned in it. But, oh, sir ! had you known the work- 
ings of that tender little heart as surely as it has been 
revealed to me all these long years, you would have 
thought a deal before you allowed any paltry feelings 
of doubt or jealousy to have stood up betwixt you and 
her happiness. 

'' Look around this room ! ” he continued, solemnly, 
with a comprehensive wave of his great long arm, and 
his voice becoming huskier in the act of contemplation. 

Look up to those pictures of the aged folks and the 
young children in their framings on the wall — all of her 
own choosing and all paid for out of her savings, and 
hung up one by one, as a surprise to me when I came 
home of nights. Was that the nature of a woman to be 
distrusted ? See the flowers on their stands in the win- 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


207 


dow beyond — every single little shoot among them 
nursed throughout the long winter, and watched over 
and loved with a constancy they would have died for 
the want of had she been a woman to be doubted. 
Look at that little cupboard over there— the key of 
which she wouldn’t even trust with me. Til wager 
you’d find saved up within it every possible little knick- 
knack that was calculated to bring her back some pleas- 
ant memory of the mother that’s dead and gone. Was 
that the heart of a woman that would be lightly turned 
aside from the man she had intrusted her future to? 
No, no, indeed, Mr. Ravelyn.” 

' Mr. Downs’s opinions as to his daughter’s character 
were in no small measure shared by his prospective 
son-in-law; and as the conversation went on, so re- 
markable were the coincidences in opinion between 
the two, that when the soft-eyed sister came down to 
announce that her charge had awakened, our hero had 
so far succeeded in mollifying his host by the relation 
of his own struggles and privations, that the dread 
ordeal of soliciting a daughter’s hand in marriage had 
been entered upon and undergone with a result equally 
gratifying to both. 

Mr. Downs arose to accompany the sister into the 
presence of his child, leaving his visitor standing hat 
in hand and gazing wistfully after them. But at the 
foot of the stairs he paused and beckoned Digby to- 
ward him. 

If I thought that she would take no harm at seeing 

you ” he had begun, when white-robed Charity on 

the landing above echoed back : No harm — let him 
come,” and motioned them forward with a gesture that 
was not to be resisted. 

'' Just one peep,” she whispered, with a smile, to the 
young man, as he gained her side, and then you must 


208 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


promise me — when I give you the sign — to be gone/’ 

‘‘ Benisons on her sweet thoughtfulness ! ” She had 
guessed with a woman’s intuition who he was and why 
he was there, and perhaps he had also brought her back 
memories of a certain gallant young officer whose death 
in far-away Soudan had shaped her path amidst the 
sorrows and privations of her poorer brethren. 

With a look of the deepest gratitude accompanying 
his whispered promise, Digby Ravelyn stole after the 
carpenter and joiner into the room, and silently took 
up a position on that side of the sick-bed where the 
curtains, while effectually hiding his figure, would 
nevertheless afford him a view of its occupant. 

She lay back on the raised pillow, her eyelids barely 
closed over their sunken orbs, and the pallor of death 
itself upon the pinched and shrunken features. Not 
the faintest indication of a breath apparent in the 
fixity of those white lips, nor the awful quiet of the 
snowy sheet that clothed her bosom. The soft cluster- 
ing brown hair had been removed and a white cloth 
had been drawn down over that portion of the little 
head to hide the disfigurement; and the thin hands 
wandering away to her breast lay crossed thereon in 
an attitude that was appallingly suggestive. So still — 
so deathlike — was her attitude, that in the terror that 
seized upon him, the young man, forgetting his prom- 
ise to her nurse, uttered her name aloud, and was ad- 
vancing to take her hand, when his companion, with 
a quick movement, drew him back behind the cur- 
tains. 

The sound of his voice seemed, however, to have 
called up some effort of life in the sick one ; for, open- 
ing her eyes slowly, she bent them with a look of lan- 
guid inquiry on her father as he knelt by the bedside 
and tenderly lifted a small wasted hand from its place 
on the coverlet. 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


209 


'' Maysie — my child/' sobbed the poor feliow, now 
utterly broken down under the weight of his grief. 
“ Maysie — my little one. Speak just one word to me 
— your father. Only one word, to say you know me." 

In mute response, the feeble hand slid from his 
grasp, and, as he buried his face in the bedclothes, 
found its way by a great eflfort on to his grizzled curls. 

Long she lay, with the great dark eyes solemnly 
resting on her father’s bowed head — her fingers toy- 
ing incessantly among his locks, and the parched lips 
moving at intervals in a vain endeavor to utter her 
recognition. Then the moistened brow began to con- 
tract as if with pain or puzzled inquiry, and the eyes 
to wander as if in search of some object or person 
she had half expected to find near by. 

Draw nigh," whispered the Sister to Digby Rav- 
elyn. She has recognized your voice, and now must 
needs behold you. If I permit you to reveal yourself, 
will you promise me that you will not speak a word 
above a whisper, and that you will at once come away 
when I bid you ? " 

Again the young man gave her his fervid promise; 
and the next moment those great weary eyes had ac- 
quired a sudden glow of life as they encountered his, 
and read within them the depth of love, of sorrow, 
and of earnest contrition that they revealed. 

Slowly the disengaged hand began to move in his 
direction, as a slight flush appeared in the hollow 
cheeks, and the eyes fixed themselves on his troubled 
face with painful intensity. 

'' Approach — she has forgiven you," came the voice 
from behind him, as he sank upon his knees in an atti- 
tude of the direst remorse and penitence. 

Nearer came the little hand. Nearer still. It touched 
his cheek, sending a thrill of infinite joy throughout 
his frame; and then, with a supreme effort, it arose 
and rested also upon his bended head. 


210 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


Outside the wind had fallen and was dying away 
in a prolonged and restful sigh. Within, no word — 
no sound. Nothing but a stifled sob from behind the 
curtains, and the bowed figure of a woman moving 
softly from the room. 

Probably no man was happier in London than Digby 
Ravelyn when he left the bedside of Mary Downs. 

She will live and she will forgive me ! '' was the 
ecstatic song in his soul as he walked home to his 
lodgings in Dedborough Street. 

On his arrival, however, his joy was somewhat tem- 
pered by finding the following note awaiting him in his 
little room : 

'' 3 North Square, Gray’s Inn. 

‘‘Dear Sir: In compliance with the commands of our es- 
teemed client, Mr. William Barbelow, we inclose you our 
check for one hundred pounds (£ioc), which Mr. Barbelow, 
after consultation with us, considers a liberal settlement of 
all indebtedness under his contract with you for the produc- 
tion of certain literary works. 

“ Mr. Barbelow has decided to entirely relinquish all liter- 
ary business, and begs us to inform you that he no longer 
considers that he has any interest in your manuscripts or 
copyrights. He wishes you success, but begs that you will 
not further trouble him with any communication. 

“ Yours most respectfully, 

“ Wiggins & Black.” 

“ To Digby Ravelyn, Esq.” 

'' Damn me ! had remarked Mr. Barbelow, as he 
had placed this missive upon the table to await the 
young man’s return. '' This will teach him that I re- 
sent his conduct to that long-suffering girl.” Then, 
with an unrecorded oath between his teeth, he had 
muttered: “Hang me, if this jealous springal shall 
ever have her unless he does something more to show 
that he is worthy of her than looking at her picture 
and condemning an angel, without giving her one 
chance to show how an idiot had dropped ink upon her 
wings.” 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


2II 


But this epistle had not such a depressing effect upon 
young Digby as the person who had left it for him 
expected. It contained a hundred pounds, and money 
generally makes youth enthusiastic and sanguine. 

‘‘ Dear old Barbelow will come around all right in a 
little while. Besides, with this I can make my success 
on my own account. Then Til return him his money. 
He thinks I have treated my darling cruelly — and so 
do I. Funny he takes such an interest in a young lady 
whose picture he has only seen, but still — ah, that pic- 
ture would make any man love her.’’ And Digby 
Ravelyn was very happy. 

But the next day, on going to the carpenter and 
joiner’s house, a deserted home brought bewilderment 
upon him. To his consternation, no communication 
had been left for him. The neighbors could give him 
no information of the whereabouts of William Downs 
and his daughter. 

For a moment, horror struck Digby, and he thought 
his sweetheart was dead. 

But this was shortly dispelled by what the neigh- 
bors told him. From them he learned that the invalid 
had been removed in a carriage early in the day accom- 
panied by her father. 

With hope in his heart, he has sought information 
from the bricklayer, but Mr. Holder has utterly re- 
fused him information on that subject, and hinted that 
her doctors said that Mary must not be agitated by any 
interviews with him at present. 

She is alive ? ” asked the young man, a strange 
tremor in his voice. 

Yes, and convalescing.” 

This has placed a hope in Digby’s heart ; a hope that 
gradually faded. 

For, seek Mary Downs where he will in the next 
three weeks, no word nor message comes to him from 


212 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


the woman of his love, and at last he mutters to him- 
self : She has forgiven me, but Heaven has not ! ” 


CHAPTER XX. 

MR. BLAGWORTH PROVES HE IS A MAN OF HONOR. 

Mr. Henry Chamfer, having effectually disposed of 
his undertaking and monumental business to his 
whilom trade rival, Mr. William Blagworth, and, hav- 
ing taken his seat on the Board of the Anglo-Swedish 
Granitic and Feldspar Co-operative Society, Limited — 
into which concern he had put every farthing of capital 
accruing from his house property and sundry minor 
investments — it had been deemed desirable in the inter- 
ests of that corporation that he should remove to some 
private dwellingdiouse, more in keeping with its dig- 
nity and importance as a going concern. 

Major Wolferton had suggested Clapham; not so 
much in view of its salubrity, be it known, as the fact 
that the Thames and a considerable stretch of terrain 
would lie between his co-director and his own little 
flat at Earlscourt. For the major, in his dealings with 
the undertaker, had firmly made up his mind to carry 
the co-operative idea no further than Barbican and its 
immediate confines — a resolution in which the chairman 
and his aristocratic colleagues had tacitly concurred. 
Mr. Vinning, in his capacity of secretary, carrying out 
the sentiment to the extent of personally assisting in the 
selection of a residence that would meet Mr. ChamfeFs 
domestic requirements. 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


213 


In the early autumn of the same year of jubilee the 
speculator’s worthy family were comfortably domiciled 
in a semi-detached villa overlooking the common of 
Clapham, and within visual range of one of the most 
picturesque looking of all London cemeteries. 

It wasn’t so much the climate, nor the gravelly soil, 
that influenced me in taking the house,” explained the 
undertaker to Mr. Blagworth — for they were now fast 
friends — not near so much that as the certainty of 
knowing where you’ve got to lay yourself down when 
you goes the way of all grass — leasterways flesh. What- 
er-meantersay, William, I’ve bought the plot in ad- 
vance, and squared it with the sexton aforehand, so 
there won’t be no extras beyond what I can trust you to 
keep down for Thorry’s and Scagliola’s sakes. And, 
William, if you ever had any professional regard for 
me, and it was to be my dying words this minute — go 
deep. Six foot is the minimum — I’m venturing on an- 
other two, making it eight in all. Beyond that there’s 
an artesian. I don’t want you to risk striking it what- 
ever you do; but, William, go deep (I’ve set it down in 
my will), go deep.” 

Then he handed over the necessary papers to his 
friend, and went his way with a light heart. 

This particular evening Tiad been set apart to cele- 
brate the gratifying fact of the new venture having 
successfully passed the allotment stage, and floated out 
into the smooth waters of public confidence. And to 
this jollification (which was purely a family affair) 
only Mr. Blagworth, for reasons to be set forth, had 
been specially invited. 

Mr. Chamfer and his eldest son had arrived home 
from the city at an earlier hour than was their wont ; 
culinary requirements having necessitated the timely 
production of those comestibles which it was the elder 
gentleman’s custom to purchase on his way from busi- 


214 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


ness. And, when he had produced these requisites, In 
the shape of a leg of mutton and a brace of partridges, 
several varieties of vegetables in season, and some 
doubtful looking Burgundy from a stout leathern hand- 
bag, he left them to be dealt with by his daughter and 
her handmaid, and curled himself up in his favorite 
armchair in the front parlor to smoke and to meditate. 

Here he was presently joined by Mr. Thorwaldsen 
Chamfer — who, in the act of reaching down his banjo 
for a preliminary rehearsal, was requested by his father 
to desist, and instead to join him in his speculations on 
the immediate future. 

'' Not just now, Thorry, my boy,” said the ex-under- 
taker and monumental mason, almost beseechingly, to 
his son. ‘‘If it’s all the same to you. I’d rather not. I 
find of late that music in any shape makes me feel sad ; 
and, of all instruments I ever listened to, a banjo is the 
melancholiest when the heart’s bowed down. I had it 
on the tip of my tongue, all the afternoon, to tell you I’d 
seen the colonel this morning. He sent a messenger 
over from the club, special.” 

“ How you frighten me, father ! ” cried his son, leap- 
ing to his feet in a state of great alarm. “ For goodness 
sake, don’t scare the life out of one like that. It wasn’t 
to tell you about that Downs affair — was it ? ” 

“ Don’t — don*t, Thorry! Never you do that again,” 
remonstrated his father sharply, and suddenly acquir- 
ing the look of guilty terror that was depicted on his 
son’s face. “ What a mercy it was I didn’t mention it 
to you in the train coming up. They’d have taken us 
for burglars — certain. Wasn’t it bad enough, my get- 
ting his message and having to face him at the ‘ War- 
riors ’ without your addin’ to it, and giving me the 
jumps. It was about the Downses he wanted to see 
me; but, thank the stars, not over that little matter ! 


DIGB Y RAVELYN. 2 1 5 

He wanted some more information from me about his 
son/’ 

And, of course, you didn’t know anything about his 
business — and didn’t want to ? ” anticipated Mr. Thor- 
waldsen Chamfer, eagerly. 

‘‘ Trust me for telling him that, Thorry,” replied his 
father, reassuringly. '' You know, since Alfred left 
us, I’ve kept out of Mr. Digby’s way all I possibly 
could ; so that I was only telling the colonel the truth 
when I gave him to understand that I’d neither seen 
nor heard anything of his son or the girl since that last 
little transaction of ours at Dumbton.” 

What was his object in wanting to know, I won- 
der,” inquired Mr. Thorwaldsen, very curiously. 

Perhaps I’m wrong, Thorry, or perhaps it’s soften- 
ing of the brain under recent adversities ; but I suspect 
it’s the same feeling that comes over myself of late 
when I lie awake of nights and think of Alfred, and the 
prospects of my never seeing hhn again. He was a bad 
'un, Thorry — as bad as you’ll find ’em nowadays ; but 

he was your brother and my son ” 

'' Oh, let him go, father,” interrupted Mr. Thorwald- 
sen Chamfer, alarmed beyond measure at this stupen- 
dous display of weakness on the part of his parent. 

He’s better where he is, and what’s more he’s well out 
of the way. Don’t you allow yourself to forget all 
about that letter and his knowledge of it. Recollect 
the circumstances of your parting, and the awful row 
there was between you, and think what a glass too 
much in him might do to us all. Don’t be a drivelling 
lunatic, father. Don’t ! ” 

I won’t, Thorry,” responded his father, with kind- 
ling eyes, as the scene referred to rose up before him. 
‘‘ You’re right again, my boy. I won’t — I promise 
you ; and there’s an end to it.” 

'' That’s right. That’s sense,” observed the other, 


2i6 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


approvingly. For, believe me, father, if you don’t 
make an end of it now, it will make an end of you in 
the long run. And now let’s make room for Scaggs to 
set the table.” 

In this duty Mr. Thorwaldsen Chamfer proceeded to 
lend his sister and her satellite all the assistance in his 
power — Mr. Chamfer retiring in the meanwhile to 
dress for the occasion. 

'' Open the kitchen window, Florrie, and let the cab- 
bage out,” directed Miss Chamfer, appearing suddenly 
in the room with a tray-load of plate, glassware, and 
cutlery. '‘Who’s been smoking? Father, of course. 
Thorry, let down the windows, this minute. I am sur- 
prised at the two of you — sitting here all this time and 
never so much as clearing the table. Take hold of the 
tray while I get the books off — not on the piano, stupid ; 

I want that for the cheese and oranges. Oh, dear! 
Oh, dear! he’ll be here in a minute and my hair not 
curled yet! There! you can lay out the table if you 
like,” she added, as a slight concession to her brother’s 
aptitude in a professional detail ; " providing you set 
the cloth with the crease in the middle. Let go — I’ll do 
it myself ! ” 

From which it will be gathered that this young per- 
son had improved very little in disposition under her 
new condition of living. 

And yet there was a circumstance connected with the . 
present occasion that might have justified the display of 
a little hastiness of temper in Miss Chamfer. 

Miss Scagliola Chamfer had set her cap at Mr. Will- 
iam Blagworth ; and the latter had so far met her half 
way, in a series of very obvious attacks on his heart, 
that there was every prospect of some understanding 
being arrived at between them before that gentleman 
turned his back that night on the hospitable doors of 
Mulberry Villa, 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


217 


So far as Mr. Henry Chamfer was concerned, the 
prospective alliance had met with his unqualified ap- 
proval. For, in addition to its strengthening the posi- 
tion of his son as a leading member of the firm of Blag- 
worth, there was also the great (if unspeakable) satis- 
faction he would experience when it should be necessary 
for him, as her father, to give the acrimonious Miss 
Chamfer away. If anybody was at all to be pitied in 
the impending transaction it was the cheery little under- 
taker himself; who, though considerably Miss Cham- 
fer's senior in years, was of so youthful an appearance 
and jovial a disposition that he migh^ well have been 
her junior by more summers than it would have been 
politic to have reminded the morose Miss Scagliola. 

But to return to Mr. Chamfer's mutton (which was 
boiled, with caper sauce on this occasion), the tardiness 
in bringing the culinary operations to a head was fully 
compensated for by the late arrival of Mr. Blagworth — 
who, but for his suit of broadcloth and a peculiar habit 
of removing his hat on the doorstep, might have fol- 
lowed any profession under the sun than that to which 
he had the honor of belonging. But it was only when 
he had entered the dining room and begun to greet the 
Chamfers in succession that anyone would have marked 
and marveled exceedingly at the bright — not to say 
chirpy — universality of a man who in the manner of 
speaking had been dogging the footsteps of death for 
over a quarter of a century. He chaffed Mr. Chamfer 
consumedly over his new duties as director, as opposed 
to his late functions as undertaker — accentuating the 
point of each joke by a tremendous slap on the shoul- 
ders of Mr. Chamfer's son, and a shout of the merriest 
laughter conceivable. Then he went off into the kitch- 
en to catch Miss Chamfer as he humorously termed 
it, ''on the top," and was actually proceeding to compli- 
ment the frightened little maid on her rosy appearance, 


2i8 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


when, Miss Chamfer intervening, he seemed to think 
better of the venture and made his way back to the 
parlor instead. Here, in pursuance of a time-honored 
villa custom that prohibits all hungry waits, he sat him- 
self down forthwith to dine and to talk. 

As in actual life, the dinner-table conversation has the 
least possible bearing on the private affairs of the di- 
ners. 

After the meal, the whole party adjourned to the 
back parlor, until what time the table, the piano, the 
sideboard, and sundry other temporary carriers might 
be relieved of their burdens and the room so rear- 
ranged as to admit of futher convivialities. 

Then, with their return. Miss Chamfer brought out 
the Burgundy — the sly blushing little chit — and Mr. 
Thorwaldsen Chamfer opened it and helped his father 
and their guest to dispose of it with a little warm water 
and cloves — Miss Chamfer in the meanwhile going 
over to the piano, on which she proceeded to hammer 
out her favorite '' Maiden’s Prayer ” with fewer dis- 
crepancies of bass than so trying an occasion might 
otherwise seem to have demanded. 

That’s the ' Verger’s Prayer ’ in French, ain’t it? ” 
asked Mr. Blagworth, looking up from the operation of 
cracking walnuts and dropping their contents in his 
wine. I shouldn’t have taken it for a hymn tune my- 
self — should you, Henry? It struck me as being a 
leetle bit too frisky for church purposes.” 

'' Oh, I declare ! How can you. Willie. Oh, dear ! 
I meant Mr. Blagworth,” protested Miss Chamfer, 
wheeling around to hide her confusion over the keys. 
‘‘ Why, it means the ' Maiden’s Prayer,’ of course. 
How could you ? ” 

And then, the evening being sultry to a degree, that 
recalled memories of his visit to Dumbton, Mr, 
Chamfer turned down the gas, lowered the windows, 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


219 


took off his coat and necktie, and invited his guest to 
follow his example ; a privilege that Mr. Blagworth and 
Mr. Thorwaldsen Chamfer were not slow in availing 
themselves of. 

There they sat. Miss Chamfer on the sofa beside 
Mr. William Blagworth (they were short of a chair). 
And Mr. Henry Chamfer and his son in the window 
recess. Each with a tumbler beside him. (that of Mr. 
Blagworth serving for two), and each of them as happy 
for the time being as their own particular conscience 
would admit of. 

How perfectly still and awe-inspiring it is, Mr. 
Blagworth,” remarked Miss Chamfer to her partner on 
the sofa, when they had sat for some time in deep si- 
lence, and the faint moonlight had begun to reveal their 
personality little by little. 

‘‘ It is so,” assented the matter-of-fact Blagworth, 
feeling his way with his tumbler to where he calcu- 
lated upon finding his mouth. '' I never did sit in a 
darkened room yet among company without thinking 
what the ' Chamber of Horrors ' would be like if the 
lights went out.” 

'' Present company not excepted — I suppose, Mr. 
Blagworth,” retorted Miss Chamfer, with as near an 
approach to wifely reproof as was safe in the circum- 
stances. 

To this sally, strange to say, the little undertaker 
made no reply. And Mr. Chamfer and his son having 
in mind their guest's proneness to argue when in his 
cups, and being unaware of the fact that the latter, un- 
der cover of the darkness, had slid his arm around Miss 
Scagliola's waist, were extremely surprised at the al- 
tered condition of affairs. 

Talking about the Chamber of Horrors,” resumed 
Mr. Blagworth, emboldened by the success of his 
maneuver (for Miss Chamfer had suffered his arm to 


220 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


remain), '' I say, talking of the Chamber of Horrors, 
if you’ll excuse my again referring to a subject that 
was not intended to apply in any way to the company 
present, a thing happened to me to-day that don’t hap- 
pen. to many undertakers in a lifetime.” 

‘‘ Is it a ghost story? ” cried his inamorata, with a 
pretty little flutter, as she moved up closer to his side. 
“ Do go on and tell it to us — for I shan’t be the least 
frightened near you, Mr. Blagworth. It quite reminds 
me of Christmas Eve with the lowered lights and all 
that — don’t it, Thorry?” 

It do,” was that person’s ungrammatical reply, as 
suggested by the query. 

‘‘ Well, this thing happened not ten minutes after you 
had left to join your father,” began Mr. Blagworth, ad- 
dressing himself to Mr. Thorwaldsen Chamfer. '' And 
after considering of it, I determined to prove myself a 
man of honor.” Mr. Blagworth’s voice has grown aw- 
ful in its hollow intensity. 

A man of honor ! ” echoes old Chamfer, Whoever 
knew one of our profession what wasn’t a man of 
honor? 

“ He has the other world too much in front of him to 
be anything else,” philosophically suggests Mr. Thor- 
waldsen. 

But why should you prove to us, my dear Blag- 
worth, that you are a man of honor ? ” 

‘‘ Why ? Because it is necessary that I must publicly 
ask Miss Scagliola to grant me her hand in marriage 
before I reveal the melancholy secret that involves the 
Chamfer family in its meshes.” 

But this speech, which was intended to be soothing 
and consolatory, produced an entirely different effect. 

Old Chamfer cast one trembling eye upon his daugh- 
ter, For a moment, looking at her beauty, the poor 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


221 


father gasped : Scagliola ! '' and feared that this 

Blagworth had been a most horrible villain. 

But the placid expression of his daughter immediate- 
ly destroyed any such suspicion, as she said : Being 

a woman of business, William Blagworth, you need 
only make that proposition once. I am yours. Now 
go on with your story.’’ 

This was interrupted by both the gentlemen of the 
party rising and seizing Blagworth’s hands and shak- 
ing them cordially. 

‘‘ God bless you, my boy,” cried the elder Chamfer. 

Welcome, my brother,” whispered Thorwaldsen. 

You’re a noble fellow.” 

You don’t exactly know how noble I am,” muttered 
Blagworth. “ Wait till you hear my story, then you 
will think I am quite open-hearted and generous ; wTien 
I tell you that this evening as I came here I bought this 
paper.” He exhibited an Evening Journal, 

'' And after reading it, I says : ‘ Now is your time, 

William Blagworth, to prove that you have the stuff of 
a man in you. When hideous despair has come upon 
the disgraced Chamfers.’ ” 

Hang it ! You mean Alf — he’s gone and done it ? ” 
gasped old Chamfer, excitedly. 

You don’t say, the low fellow’s gone upon the 
stage,” cried Thorwaldsen, “ just as we have got into 
social prominence.” 

But unheeding this, Blagworth went sternly on in his 
oration : Now is the time,” he shouted, “ when the 

father is ruined and ready to go to jail, and the brother 
is liable to be thrown out of the firm by me, if I want to. 
Now is the time for me to take the poor, penniless 
daughter of a bankrupt house because ” 

But he got no further. Ruined and thrown into 
jail! ” screamed the elder Chamfer. 


222 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


'' What do you mean, lunatic ? ’’ snarled young Thor- 
waldsen. 

'' No lunatic ! This paper V Blagworth displayed 
before them these awful headlines : 

'' Monstrous Defalcation. Secretary of the Anglo- 
Swedish Granitic and Feldspar Co-operative Associa- 
tion, Limited, disappeared with the capital of the com- 
pany. Directors liable for criminal carelessness to the 
stockholders. Probable ruin of all investors.'' 

And other horrible commercial facts. 

It — it can't be true !" gasped old Chamfer, who was 
half fainting. ‘‘ Thorry, get me a tumbler of some- 
thing strong." 

It is true ! Those knocks on that door prove it to 
be true. That rapping on the outer casement is a lot of 
newspaper gents, come out to interview one of the 
directors. I knew they'd be here soon. They're prob- 
ably just ahead of the police." 

At this dire suggestion, Miss Scagliola uttered a 
heart-rending scream and threw herself upon her be- 
trothed's bosom, while the jangling of the knocker by 
•the newspaper men outside seemed more horrible than 
ever to the unfortunate Chamfer, as the rat-ta-ta-tat 
now seemed to be of that official peremptory dignity 
that indicated a “johnny" was a-thumping it. 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE NEW WORLD. 

Being excerpts from the diary of Maysie Downs. 

Rosario, December, 1888. 
Sometimes I feel too excited to put my pen to paper, 
but at others feel it is a duty I owe to my dear sister, 
Ursula, whose kind hands supported me through the 
vale of sickness that led so nigh unto the shadow of 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


223 


death. For these lines are written, dear sister, so that 
you will not be too much surprised when you see me on 
my return to England, stand before you, strong, 
healthy, tanned and — happy. 

They tell me, my kind nurse, that you would not 
leave me until you had placed me, worn, pale and al- 
most helpless, upon the deck of the Valparaiso as she 
steamed down the Mersey en route for South America 
and the Rio de la Plata. 

Please note that I am becoming quite Spanish in my 
expressions, vide Rio de la Plata. Probably I may 
astonish you in these memoirs by introducing suddenly : 

Besos los manos de V ” and Gracias cahallero,** 
or, perchance, when excited, M adre niia ! "" 

Having mixed with what is called the best society in 
the Argentines, I have become somewhat Spanish in my 
expressions, though not in my heart. That is all Eng- 
lish! I am always yearning for the dear land that I 
have left, but hope soon to see again, I and my 

But I won't anticipate the delightful denouement of 
my story. 

Of course, you know, I and my poor father were 
taken up by Don Jorge, my father's brother, my uncle, 
the man who masqueraded as Barbelow, trying to make 
Digby a literary man — an enormous task. But from 
what I have seen of my dear uncle, he is a man for 
enormous tasks. 

Ah santissima! I wonder how you could look me in 
the face, dear Sister Ursula, and not tell me about my 
Uncle George, when you knew. He it was that brought 
you to my bedside, my dear nurse. But, of course, that 
was on acount of my health I 

You have noticed that my style of expression has 
become more vivacious, perhaps lighter and more 
frivolous; but oh, happiness is such an aid to brightness! 

For the world has changed to me ever since Don 


224 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


Jorge took charge of me and my poor father. It has 
become a different and a broader existence, a world not 
quite so full of carpentry and joinery and cookery and 
household duties ; but the big broad world : — to me, the 
new world of travel, novel scenes and changing faces. 
Not that I was not happy then in Digby’s love; but oh, 
this is so different. 

They all say that it was on account of my health that 
I have been taken to a milder climate and changed 
environment; that deceit was best for me; that excite- 
ment would have killed me. 

That was what Don Jorge hinted when he spoke to 
me the first time on the deck of the steamer 
after Papa introduced him as my uncle. I saw 
my father look at him when he whispered to' 
me that they were taking me away from Eng- 
land for my health, so that the soft breezes of the 
South Atlantic and the fresh zephyrs that play about 
the Fayal and the Cape de Verde Islands should make 
a new girl of poor, thin, emaciated Maysie Downs. 
They also hinted that when I was strong enough, then 
he would come after me. 

They let me think that of him I love. 

That was the story with which they lured me 
from England, or at least made my absence from him 
endurable in the hope that when Digby came to me he 
would find not a pale, delicate, weakling invalid, but a 
strong, healthy, hearty girl, one fitted to take the hand 
of the man she loved, and help him fight his battle ; one 
suited to be a poor man's wife. 

That was the way they spoke to me at first, when, 
weak and pale, I reclined in the lounging steamer-chair 
and watched in a half somnolent way the waves as they 
raced past me, and thought they were going toward him 
and I was going from him. But afterward when I 
grew stronger, they told me a somewhat different tale. 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


225 


For I soon began to get stronger. At all events I 
grew much more haughty, and let them know that 
nothing could ever make me forget Digby, especially 
when Don Jorge began to attack him. 

The first hint of this was toward the end of the voy- 
age. We had been out nearly four weeks, and they 
thought I was strong as an Amazon. 

Then Uncle Jorge, who, though he is weazened, 
small, and dried up, has at times a dictatorial way with 
him, which probably comes because he has the respect 
and consideration of everybody on board, from the cap- 
tain down, who I think is somewhat in awe of him, as. 
I am told, he is a very large owner in the line. About 
that time. Uncle Jorge made certain remarks in regard 
to Digby that I thought were unkind. 

He was so prejudiced and unjust, would you believe 
it, Ursula, that he said he thought my betrothed un- 
worthy of me. Just because Digby had been jealous 
of me, which is a proof of true love. The more foolish 
the jealousy, the more foolish — I mean, the greater the 
love. 

On hearing this, I told Uncle Jorge what was my 
opinion of the matter, adding: ‘‘ If I, who have been 
wronged, have forgiven Digby, then how dare you 
abuse him on account of me ? 

At this pert reply my father looked somewhat dis- 
concerted, for he holds Uncle Jorge in considerable 
awe. But Uncle Jorge, who has always seemed very 
tender to me, perhaps on account of my convalescence, 
appeared somewhat pleased at it, and chuckled : 

‘'If you defend him, how can I attack him. And, if 
you love him, that proves that he must have something 
in him.’’ Then he struck me with these horrible words : 
“ But your father and I are not going to let him have 
you until he proves himself more worthy of you than 
writing poor novels ” 


226 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


Poor novels ! ’’ I cried. How can you attack 
them?’’ 

“ I have tried to publish them, and I know what I am 
talking about,” was his sardonic answer. Then he went 
on so sternly that he almost broke my heart : And 

looking at your picture, and not giving you a chance to 
defend yourself, from the suspicion brought into his 
mind by almost insane jealousy. I had forgiven him 
easier, but he thought you in love with that Mounte- 
bank wretch ; that music hall Chamfer ! ” 

Still I gained strength day by day in spite of Uncle 
Jorge’s ungenerous remarks about Digby, the breezes 
of the South Atlantic doing their work very well upon 
me. 

Upon the great white deck of the Valparaiso I lounged 
in tropical but healthful laziness, in white gauze dresses 
and muslins and light toilets, and I found I had a great 
many of them, very beautiful ones, in my wardrobe. 
Uncle Jorge had been so generous. I had a maid to put 
them on me ; that was because I was sick, I presume. 

One day, looking at these exquisite gowns, I said, 
jeeringly, perhaps, I was fretting about Digby : “ Uncle 
Jorge, you forget you are frocking a carpenter and 
joiner’s daughter.” 

To this he answered sharply, the first time in his life 
he ever said anything brusque to me : ‘‘ Hold your 

tongue. Miss Pert, I am dressing the niece of Sehor 
Don Jorge of Buenos Ayres and San Rosario, the 
richest Hidalgo on the pampas, whose wheat fields run 
by the hundred thousand acres, and whose cattle are 
numbered by the hundred thousand head. I am robing 
you as the grand-daughter of Major-General Arthur 
Downs of the English Army, not in the station your 
poor foolish father dominated by a false, absurd and 
communistic pride, let you live.” 

That is the way he dared speak of my father, and 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


227 


my father only said : Perhaps you are right, Brother 

George. Perhaps it is pleasanter to be a gentleman 
again/’ And I imagine it is. Papa even now prefers 
expensive cigars to his humble pipe. 

But the happiness that comes to me with health and 
with station is that I am placed by my uncle in the rank 
of the man who loves me ; that Digby need no longer 
appeal to his father to forgive him for marrying beneath 
his station ; that I can say to the man of my heart : '' Tell 
your father, Colonel Ravelyn, that you don’t wed the 
daughter of the carpenter and joiner, but the grand- 
daughter of a major-general in the English Army, and 
the niece of the Hidalgo of the Argentines, a man who 
has money enough to buy Ravelyn House and the 
Anglo-Swedish Granitic and Feldspar Co-operative As- 
sociation, Limited, combined.” 

On my expressing myself to my uncle one day, after 
this manner, he had only answered with one of his 
characteristic chuckles. 

These chuckles, I have learned to know, conceal a 
great deal. I sometimes dread them. Not that my 
Uncle Jorge is not the kindest and best uncle in the 
world, for think what he has done for poor papa and 
myself, but there seems to be a kind of grim humor 
about him, and he appears to revel in the unexpected. 

However, be that as it may, he came to me soon after 
we had left Montevideo, in fact the day before we ar- 
rived at Buenos Ayres, and after inspecting me and 
saying in his bluff manner that he was glad to see that I 
was strong as a horse, he added : Are you philoso- 

phical enough to bear a little news ? ” 

‘‘ What news ? ” I arose before him no more an in- 
valid. ‘‘ You have news of Digby ; a telegram ? ” 

Well, yes.” 

'' Good news or bad news ? ” 

“ Well, both. This paper ! He produced a London 


228 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


journal. ‘‘ I would have g^iven it to you before, but 
I thought I would wait until you had put a few more 
pounds of flesh upon your bones before I risked it” 

'' Quick, give it to me ! I have gained forty pounds 
by the scales/’ 

Here he placed in my hand a London journal of 
about the date of our leaving, in which, in sensational 
headlines, I read : '' Financial rascality. Ruin of the 

Anglo-Swedish Granitic and Feldspar Co-operative As- 
sociation, Limited.” 

'‘I don’t see how that affects me,” I replied. 

Don’t you ? Read it !” 

On inspecting the details of the article I discovered 
this company was one in which Digby’s father was in- 
terested, and it meant the ruin of Colonel Ravelyn, and 
likewise an unfortunate undertaker who had been our 
landlord, one Henry Chamfer. The failure of the 
company had been brought about by the absconding of 
Mr. Charles Vinning, who had been its secretary. This 
man had previously been in the employ of Colonel 
Ravelyn, and I had seen him when my father had been 
working at Ravelyn House. Therefore, I knew this 
Vinning by sight, and a great gasp came up in my 
throat. 

'' What is the matter? Have you convulsions? ” 
U-u-uh!” 

‘'What is the matter? Have you convulsions?” 

“ No, I am strong. But Mr. Charles Vinning is on 
this boat as a steerage passenger. I had never thought 
of it before. I noticed his face was familiar, but it 
brought at the time no absolute impression to my mind. 
But now the man should be arrested. Let me go and 
pick out the absconder.” 

“ Take this matter quietly,” remarked my uncle. “ If 
Vinning’s on board he’s got no chance to run away 
from you, my lady detective,” 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


229 


Yes — Fm sure I can recognize him/’ I answered, 
excitedly. '' The man has lost the little finger of his 
right hand. I remember it well now.” 

But, to my confusion, a careful examination made 
during the day in the cursory way, a lady in the first 
cabin was compelled to make of the steerage and second 
cabin passengers, gave to my eyes no Charles Vinning. 

Probably he has heard that the female Vidocq is on 
board and has disguised himself or jumped overboard,” 
my uncle suggested with one of his philosophical smiles. 

‘‘ You don’t seem to think. Uncle Jorge,” I said, that 
women can do anything, very well; not even catch ab- 
sconders.” 

'' I think they can sew exquisitely, and keep house 
delightfully, and make the world beautiful and charm- 
ing, and lovable like themselves. I believe they can 
aid men in the battle of life. And it would be rather 
an aid to Digby, wouldn’t it, if you caught this Vinning, 
my dear ; especially if he had his plunder with him ; a 
very large amount of money, I believe, sufficient to 
bankrupt the company. Perhaps if Digby recovered 
the money and brought the absconder to justice, his 
father might permit him to condescend to marry the 
grand-daughter of Major-General Downs. However, 
I doubt if we ever could have had the scoundrel ar- 
rested without a warrant, even on an English steamer ; 
so I give you a little hint, my dear child, in case you 
should see or recognize this Mr. Vinning in Argentina. 
It will be wisest for you to give no suggestion of the 
fact to the gentleman in question. Only whisper it to 
me, Don Jorge. You are still sure you saw the scoun- 
drel on board? ” 

Oh, yes, I know it. He may have got off at Rio or 
Montevideo, but I am sure he was on board.” 

Ah, quite a little female Scoltland Yarder.” 

I determined to act up to the name my uncle had 


230 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


given me, and so despite the protests of the gentlemen 
upon the arrival of the vessel, lingered about the ship 
long after my baggage had been taken on shore. It is 
astonishing how delays of this kind aggravate gentle- 
men. Even my father remarked to me that his little 
Maysie was getting to make a great deal more trouble 
in South America than she had ever done in England. 

But I carried my point. I dawdled about the boat 
until, to my joy, I discovered what might be Mr. 
Charles Vinning going on shore in a lighter. He had 
the dirty face and filthy clothes of a coal passer ; besides 
the little finger of the stoker’s right hand had been 
amputated. 

This made me quite certain it was Charles Vinning. 
Anyway, I took the liberty, soon after I got on shore, of 
cabling without signature the following to Digby Rave- 
lyn : 

The absconder who has ruined your father is in 
Buenos Ayres.'’ 

I have no doubt, my uncle would have been angry at 
my sending the cablegram, but it might bring Digby 
nearer to me. It might give him the opportunity of 
showing himself worthy of me according to my uncle's 
hard-headed, cold-blooded worldly ideas. 

At all events, I longed to see him, and I couldn't be- 
lieve that Providence would be so_unkind as not to let 
us come together in case my affianced journeyed to 
this far-off land. 

Not that I was unhappy in Buenos Ayres and 
Rosario, to which place we shortly afterward jour- 
neyed ; but my heart was going out of me to see the man 
I loved. 

Perhaps I was anxious to show him that I was not 
now only the daughter of a carpenter and joiner; that 
the great of the land were about me and bowing before 
me. My uncle, who seemed very proud of me, gave 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


231 


a reception in my honor at which I acted as hostess, 
and it seemed to me a different world to the contracted 
one in which I had lived. 

Even now they call my father, Don Guillermo ; and, 
don’t you think me a coquette, Ursula, several Hidalgos, 
foreign and English, have been kind enough to show 
some pertinent attention to Dona Maria Downs. 

But the extraordinary part of it came nearly two 
months after my arrival, when one afternoon at a 
tertulia in Rosario, was presented to me Don Carlos 
Manning, an English speculator in wheat, a man who 
was said to have brought letters of introduction to a few 
of the best families, both Spanish and English. 

The gentleman’s appearance would not have struck 
me, he had dark hair and dark moustache, which seemed 
to be in curious contrast to his extremely light and shifty 
eyes, but as he bowed before me a startled, astonished 
look came into his pallid face. 

Sudenly an inspiration flew into my mind, one of 
those feminine instincts. Uncle Jorge says, comes some- 
times from God and sometimes from the Prince of the 
Lower World. Uncle Jorge, however, uses another 
title for the Potentate of darkness.” 

I imagined the defaulter was before me, for I had 
thought of this subject often. It seemed to me as if the 
rascality of this Vinning would some day bring Digby 
to me. 

Don Carlos’s hands were carefully gloved, but 
with wonderful astuteness for me, I extended my hand 
to him, and he was compelled to grasp it. I spoke to 
him in my most cordial voice, telling him how pleasant 
it was to meet a compatriot in far off Argentina, and all 
the time I was examining his digits by touch, and, to 
my disappointment, his fingers were complete. 

This made my spirits droop. Somehow it seemed a 
bad omen for my love affair. My uncle says, it has got 


232 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


into my blood that Vinning’s manacles will be my wed- 
ding ring. That is the horrible way Don Jorge puts it. 

Anyway, the assemblage no longer interested me, 
though some of the most distingished caballeros of 
Rosario, Santa Fe and Buenos Ayres and even far-off 
Mendoza, were kind enough to be quite attentive to the 
niece of Don Jorge. 

But I had little spirits to make myself agreeable to 
them, and finally permitted myself to be led to the re- 
freshment room by General Don Pablo Campos, chief 
of staff to the president, a dashing soldier who talks 
about crossing the Andes and capturing Santiago de 
Chili, when the next fight over the boundary question 
comes off. Anyway, he was at the moment asking me 
whether I thought it would be pleasant to be the lady 
of an Argentine Captain-General, commanding the 
province of Chili, and other remarks suggestive, I pre- 
sume, of matrimony. But I grew very stupid and pre- 
tended I imagined he only referred to military glory. 

Just at this moment — the day was warm ; November 
weather is the brightest spring, you must know down 
here in the Southern hemisphere — I chanced to look 
across the buffet. 

In order to assist a lady more readily, Don 
Carlos Manning, who was quite attentive to pretty 
Senorita Sanchez, a maiden of a hundred square leagues 
of land, they say, and cattle and horses and sheep like 
unto the flocks of the Patriarchs, had withdrawn his 

right hand glove, and 

What is the matter, Dona Maria ? ’’ whispered the 
general in my ear. The ice in my hand had fallen to 
the floor, and I had nearly fainted. 

Without the glove, Don Carlos Manning’s little finger 
of his right hand was a minus quantity. 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 233 

At last I was face to face with him, but where was 
Digby. Digby, who should be here to seize him. 

Pooh, without requisition papers and the English 
Consul even Digby could not play the policeman in 
Rosario. 

Coming away from the tertiilia, I thought I would 
whisper my discovery to my uncle, but something told 
me that when the fox was near the hound could not be 
very far off — so I waited. 

And I was so glad that I had not mentioned it to my 
uncle. 

For Don Jorge escorted into the patio one evening a 
young man whom for a moment I didn’t recognize in 
the moonlight, and said : '' Maysie, I have brought this 
young fellow to see you, for he has traveled a long way 
to do it ; but it is not with my consent that you see him.” 
Then he growled : Hang it, you’ve settled it your- 

self!” 

Even while he was speaking I had flown to Digby’s 
arms with a little scream of love, and my dear boy was 
giving out over me excited exclamations of joy and 
happiness, because I was no longer the poor, wan 
creature who had left him, but a healthy, robust young 
woman, strong enough to love and be loved. 

Then, Uncle Jorge having gone away with a mut- 
tered scowl or chuckle, I couldn’t tell which, Digby 
dared to be stern with me. He said : '' Now is my time 
for complaint. You had forgiven me and yet you fled 
from me. I am not the laggard now. It is you, whose 
hand in sickness was placed in mine to show that you 
forgave me ; and now, surrounded by wealth and 
luxury, permitting the attentions of the rich and the 
happy, you have forgotten the man who is not only 
ruined himself, but who is a member of a ruined family.” 

How noble, how despairing he looked in his indigna- 
tion. 


234 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


'' A ruined family? ’’ I gasped. 

Yes, have you not heard of my father being bank- 
rupted by the villain Vinning. It didn’t matter to me 
much, I presume ; but still, to try and help my poor old 
governor, I have come to this country, as some good 
angel sent me a cablegram stating that the absconder 
was here.” 

Then something in my eyes spoke to him. He fal- 
tered. Some good angel — was — was it you, Maysie 
— was it you ? ” 

And I whispered to him: '' Yes, and I can tell you 
how you can save your father yet.” 

For now was my opportunity to make a little prestige 
for Digby so that he might come into my uncle’s pres- 
ence as a man of success. 

Therefore, between kisses of love and tears of joy, I 
whispered to him that the Englishman masquerading as 
Don Carlos Manning was Charles Vinning, the ab- 
sconding secretary of the Anglo-Swedish Granitic and 
Feldspar Co-operative Association, Limited. That it 
might be the salvation of his father if he captured the 
wretch, who, apparently, must have some of the plunder 
with him, as he was spending a good deal of money in 
pursuit of that pretty little Sehorita Rosita Sanchez. 
“ Act quickly,” I urged Digby, '' unmask him before 
the poor girl loves him.” 

Perhaps I was speaking for myself as well as Rosita. 
At all events, Digby acted on my advice ; and by the next 
morning, with the assistance of the English Consul, had 
Mr. Charles Vinning in jail awaiting extradition. Be- 
sides, Digby ultimately recovered for the Granitic 
and Feldspar company over eighty per cent, of the 
money which Vinning had embezzled. 

A little show of resistance on the criminal’s part and 
an attempt to drown himself in the river, from which 


DIGBY BAVELYN. 2 35 

Digby himself saved him, made quite a stir in quiet 
Rosario, and my affianced something of a hero. 

Egad, your young man is a better detective than 
novelist,'' Uncle Jorge remarked in his sardonic way. 
For my uncle, at that time, was very severe on poor 
Digby. 

In fact, shortly afterward, Digby coming to me with 
his face radiant by success, we could not see how he 
could ever have doubted my love, or how I could ever, 
even though dying, have permitted myself to be carried 
away from him. So after a little discussion of the 
matter, we made up our minds that Don Jorge had been 
the cause, passively as the cynical Barbelow, and active- 
ly as my haughty uncle, of all the trouble in our love 
affair. 

Then together we went into Don Jorge’s presence and 
forgave him. 

I can't well describe his face as he heard the record 
of his offenses and our magnanimous pardon of them, 
because of our love for him. 

He chuckled horribly, and then made me very red by 
saying : ‘‘ How about young Chamfer ; didn't his 

amorous declaration to you on the sidewalk. Miss Af- 
fable, have something to do with Mr. Hotspur's jealous 
rage ? " Then he caused me more blushes by adding : 
^‘All this means in plain English that you want me to 
give you a regular, whole-souled, English Argentina 
wedding before you can change your youthful minds." 

I suppose we told him he guessed right, as a few 
weeks afterward, in January, a great semi-barbaric, 
midsummer nuptial festa took place at his gigantic 
cattle farm, or Estanciay upon the pampas, the real pam- 
pas, the gigantic plains of South America, the rivals of 
the prairies of the United States. 

I cannot describe to you the wild, uncivilized magnifi- 
cence of the pageant ; for my uncle's estates are prince- 


236 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


ly, and his retainers — peons, gauchos, and Indians — 
were present in great numbers to do the Gringo bride 
and bridegroom honor. Half a dozen oxen, half a hun- 
dred sheep, were killed and roasted. Mate yerba, the tea 
of the country, was brewed in enormous quantities. 

The gauchos, the cowboys of the prairies, exhibited 
the wild sports of the pampas; their dexterity as va- 
queros; their extraordinary skill in catching animals 
with their bolas, which takes the place of the Mexi- 
can lasso; their marvelous feats of horsemanship, for 
these men live in the saddle — in fact, everybody rides 
here, men, women and children ; it is the universal ac- 
complishment. These exercises, taking place under the 
hot summer sun of the southern hemisphere, upon the 
great, dusty, dried-up plains that seemed boundless, 
made a barbaric picture that even now gives me quite a 
medieval thrill. It seemed more like the wedding of a 
princess than that of the daughter of a carpenter and 
joiner. 

But the greatest joy that perhaps came to me was a 
cablegram that Digby brought to me on the wedding 
day, which simply read : 

‘‘ Blessings and congratulations to my daughter^ 

Ravelyn.’' 

It had come by a special courier, who brought the 
mail from Rosario to Don Jorge’s quinta. 

Also there was a letter — from whom do you think? 
Frederick Holder — which in his humble way congratu- 
lated the daughter of his old friend. It ended with 
these characteristic words : 

Imitation is the sincerest flattery. Mrs. Busby, of 
No. 13 Dedborough Street, the one that used to rag 
your poor young man so for his rent, and I has 
thoughts of doing the same as you and young Mr. 
Digby — getting married.” 


DIGBY UAVELYN. 


237 


CHAPTER XXII. 

’aUGHTY FLORINDA ! ’’ 

(Diary of Mary Ravelyn.) 

New York, April 23. 

My wedding passed like a blissful dream. 

But thoughts of England shortly made it seem more 
real. Uncle Jorge, taking advantage of the rage for 
Argentines, disposed of a large portion of his property 
in Buenos Ayres, Rosario, and Santa Fe to an English 
company, and proposed to voyage to England v/ith us 
and make his home in our beloved Somersetshire. 

He however suggested our return to Europe by way 
of the United States, so that I would not encounter the 
dampness of the English climate during the winter 
months. They all seem to think that I am still an in- 
valid. Perhaps it is their great love for me that makes 
them anxious. 

Anyway, we took steamer for New York, where we 
are now, domiciled at the Everett House on Union 
Square. In this city two evenings ago I met an old 
friend and endured a very curious reminiscence. 

Uncle Jorge, who has traveled the world over, and 
seems to be at home everywhere, and I believe has some 
property in this city, and perhaps intends to make fur- 
ther investments in American securities, had been 
tramping about the town with as much ease as if he 
were Yankee born and a native. 

Two evenings ago he dropped into our little parlor 


238 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


at the Everett House, and said : '' Digby, I am going 
to take you and Mary to see Arthur Shrewsbury.” 

'' Arthur Shrewsbury,” Digby asked. Who is he? ” 

Oh, he is the great London sensation in the serio- 
comic line. He has made his reputation since you left 
England. When he frowns, the audience smiles ; when 
he weeps, the spectators go into tears of laughter.” 

Oh, I have seen his name placarded all over New 
York,” I cry. ‘‘ The Great Shrewsbury, in his melan- 
choly sketch, ' ’Aughty Florinda of Battersea Park.' 
That seems quite near to us, doesn't it, Digby ? ” Part 
of his song is on the posters, and I quote it, carelessly : 

Oh, 'Aughty Florinder, 

With flint, spark and tinder, 

Kindle the flame 
What makes me insane I 

He is playing at Tony Pastor's,” remarked my 
uncle. 

‘‘ What's that,” I asked, a theater? ” We had al- 
ready been to Daly's and the Metropolitan Opera 
House. 

‘‘ No, it is what they call a variety show here ; some- 
thing similar to our music halls in England. You 
needn't look shocked, my Lady Propriety. It is per- 
fectly respectable, though it is usually more patronized 
by gentlemen than ladies. However, I have a private 
box, which has been sent to me. In fact, for the first 
time in my life,” here he grinned, I am a deadhead, 
with the compliments of the great Shrewsbury him- 
self.” 

Why did he send it to you ? ” asked Digby. 

“ Hump ! He is — ah — umph — an old friend. It is 
astonishing how old friends turn up. He was not in the 
amusement line when I knew him; something more 


DIGjSY RxWELYN. 


^39 


sedate, not to say melancholy. But you’ll see in time ; 
you’ll see in time.” 

I am beginning to be impressed by my uncle’s mys- 
teries, and the denouement of this one has added to my 
awe of his unexpected surprises. 

We went to the place, a little stuffy theater on Four- 
teenth Street, I believe, and from the seclusion of a 
private box I witnessed what they call in America a 
variety performance; a great deal of it negro minstrel 
sketches, some of them in their rude way quite amus- 
ing ; a few pretty ballads, as a rule sung very much off 
the key, and then, looking over the program, I saw 
the appearance of the celebrated English comic — 

The World-Renowned 
ARTHUR SHREWSBURY, 

On his First American Tour, 

In his Marvelous Pathetic Comicalities, entitled: 

She Couldn't Dodge Me," 
and 

'"Aughty Florinda of Battersea Park," 

In which he will execute his celebrated weeping dance, 
Which always receives six encores. 

Something in my uncle’s appearance about this time 
suggested Mr. Arthur Shrewsbury was the mysterious 
sensation. 

He was ! — only a greater one than I imagined. 

I almost fainted when the great Shrewsbury came 
upon the stage, and I beheld Alfred Chamfer. 

His make-ups as a costermonger in his first sketch, 
and as a Whitechapel swell in his second act, were 
not sufficiently distinctive from his usual London ap- 
pearance to prevent my recognizing him, or Digby, 
either. 

In fact, Digby recognized altogether too much; so 
did my uncle; so did I. For Chamfer’s last sketch, 


240 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


’Aughty Florinda of Battersea Park/’ was nothing 
more than a most horrible exaggeration of his love- 
making to me on the sidewalk that awful evening. 

Sometimes I think when the Whitechapel swell 
looked upon me — I had drawn as far back in the box 
as possible — his pathos grew more real and funnier on 
that account. The audience encored him again and 
again. By their applause I perceived the reason of Mr. 
Arthur Shrewsbury’s success. His grief was absolute- 
ly fascinating in its comicality, and in spite of myself 
I caught myself laughing at his weeping dance, which 
was a paraphrase of some of the performances he had 
gone through in front of me that awful evening. 

Just here my uncle covered me with confusion by 
remarking, sarcastically : ‘‘ It seems funnier on the 
stage than in real life, doesn’t it, Maysie?” Then he 
jeered Digby frightfully : '' Jealous of that fellow, 
eh?” 

A few minutes after the close of his sketch, Mr. 
Shrewsbury, to my astonishment and horror, rapped 
upon the door of our box, and Alfred Chamfer, dressed 
in elaborate evening dress, entered. 

Awfully glad to see friends from the other side,” 
he said. Awfully glad that we are all of us so pros- 
perous. My American tour is the success of the theat- 
rical world. Mr. Irving’s manager was here the other 
night, and admitted that Henry, at the Thirteenth 
Street, was not doing the business that I was. Very 
glad, Mr. Ravelyn, to see by the papers that you ar- 
rested that scoundrel Vinning — a little late for my old 
gentleman, who has really gone and done it now.” 

‘‘ What do you mean ? ” I asked. 

‘‘ My father — why, he’s gone and put himself out 
this mortal coil — buried himself. Something I often 
suggested to him — though it was in jest ; God knows it 
was in jest. But now, the poor old governor is up in 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


241 


the angels’ row; he will know I didn’t mean it. And 
we — we were never reconciled.” 

Here tears ran down Alfred Chamfer’s face, and, 
though his grief was grotesque, I couldn’t laugh at it — 
it was real. 

A few minutes afterward he covered me with con- 
fusion. In his frank, way he said: “ When I return to 
London, Mrs. Ravelyn, you will please remember that 
a box is always at your service whenever you see the 
name of Arthur Shrewsbury on the bills.” 

'' I couldn’t think of accepting such a favor,” I mut- 
tered, bashfully. 

Oh, no favor at all. Just remember that you have 
been the inspiration of my life — the inspiration of 
Alfred Chamfer’s life — that has turned him from the 
poor undertaker’s hanger-on to the great Arthur 
Shrewsbury. They talk about knighting Henry, you 
know. There is no telling what may happen to me. 
Sometime I hope to introduce Lady Shrewsbury on the 
boards. Double song and dance by Sir Arthur and Lady 
Shrewsbury ; how would that sound ? ” 

His words told me the wound he declared I had in- 
flicted on his heart had healed. I artfully suggested : 
‘‘ You have a Lady Shrewsbury in your eye ? ” 

'' Ah, watch Miss Minnie Saint Maurice when she 
makes her appearance in the next turn. Good-by, I 
must go now. Minnie is coming on ; I must stand 
by to give her a hand.” And he hurries oflf. 

But we don’t wait to see Miss Minnie Saint Maurice, 
who, I am told, is a very charming and pretty little 
singer and dancer. I only hope that she will be as good 
as she ought to be to gain the true though grotesque 
heart of Mr. Alfred Chamfer. 

And so a week from now we sail for England. Ah, 
dear Ursula, what does that mean to me? Home, hus- 
band, country, friends, and Don Jorge, who is not such 


DIGBY RAVELYN. 


242 

a bad angel after all, is he? They are to make a fete 
for me at Ravelyn House, and the haughty colonel is 
to meet us with a state carriage at Maplehurst Station, 
and they tell me I am to be the lady of the manor. At 
least, Digby tells me so, and I believe him. One must 
always believe her husband, mustn’t she, Ursula? 


THE END. 



duller 


cA cHpvet 

BY 

HEBER K. DANIELS 

AatEof of 

^^Digby Ravclyn/^ Tales of a l!ctt2uot^ ctc^ 


'^HIS is a story which, although it takes place to- 
* day, has in it as much mediaeval charm and excit- 
ing incident as if it had happened when Marie de 
Medici used her maids of honor as pawns upon the 
chessboard of intrigue and sacrificed half a dozen of 
them to make a Queen of France. 


There is in this capital story sufficient melodrama to make a comfort- 
able Adelphia play. — Whitehall Review. 

We can heartily recommend this volume to our readers. It is not too 
long, and the interest is sustained to the end. It is one of the few books 
recently published that is worth reading a second North British 

A dvertiser. 

A masterpiece in its own way, — The Calcutta Englishman. 

The last chapters are intensely tragical and The Bookseller^ 

Newdealer and Stationer. 


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The field of the work is practically a new one for fiction, much 
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“A PASSING EMPEROR,'' “THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE," ETC. 


Mr. Shortz has been engaged nearly a year in writing “ The 
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DIGBY RAVELYN 


A NOVEL 


BY 

HEBER K. DANIELS 

AUTHOR OF 

“My Lady’s Banner,” “Tales of a Terrace,” 

etc., etc. 


NEW YORK 

THE HOME PUBLISHING COMPANY 

3 EAST FOURTEENTH STREET 


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Entered at the Postoffice at New York as second-class mail matter 


M. S. Bradford 

Special 

A MARVELOUS STORY OF THE DAY 


. . . BY . . . 

ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER 

Author of 

“ Mr. Barnes of New York,” “ Bob Covington,” 

“Billy Hamilton,” “Jack Curzon,” Etc. 


The Book is divided into three most unique yet audacious 
episodes^ entitled: 

I. THB INVESTIGATION DOWN TOWN 

II. THE ROMANCE UP TOWN 

III. ADAM AND EVE IN WAET STREET 


Cloth, ;$i .25 


Paper, 50 Cents 


For sale by all booksellers, or 
sent prepaid on receipt of price by 


THE HOME PUBLISHING COMPANY 

3 East fourteenth Street, New York 


Archibald Clavering Gunter’s 
Celebrated Works 


THE MOST SUCCESSFUL NOVELS OF THE AGE 

Mr, Barnes of New York 

Mr. Potter of Texas 

That Frenchman 

Miss Nobody of Nowhere 
Miss Dividends 

Baron Montez of Panama and Paris 
A Princess of Paris 

The King’s Stockbroker 

The First of The English 

The Eadies’ Juggernaut 
Her Senator 

Don Balasco of Key West 
Bob Covington 

Susan Turnbull 

Bally ho Bey 

Billy Hamilton 

A Dost Americaa 

Jack Curzon, 

M. S. Bradford, Special 

CLOTH, GILT TOP, $1.25 PAPER, 50 CENTS 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid 
on receipt of price by 

THE HOME PUBLISHING CO. 


3 East Fourteenth Street 


New York 


Ninetieth Thousand. 


Bob Covington 

BY 

Archibald Clavering Gunter 


** (jf intense interest.” — 5/. Louis Star 

There is not a dull line between the covers.” 

— St, Louis Post-Despatch 

“ Better than ‘ Mr. Barnes of New 

York.’ ” — l/ondon Times 


Cloth, $1.25 Paper, 50 Cents 

Sent postpaid on receipt of price 


THE HOME PUBLISHING COMPANY 

3 East Fourteenth Street 


NEW YORK 




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